Sweet Forgiveness
by DamselOnDrums
Summary: Over the course of two months, so many things can change. For Emily Prentiss, those changes were drastic, especially the addition to her family. When on a case in Indiana, will she be able to separate her job and home life? Sequal to Important Principles.
1. Chapter 1

_Erm, hello there. As you know, it is indeed Taylor here. I come bearing sequals- er, sequal. So, I may have sort of, kind of, maybe, completely lied when I said this would have to wait until after I got the next chapter of "A Long Way Gone" out. I got writers block on it, and this just seemed to flow, for the most part. If you have not yet read my story "Important Principles" and wish to read this, I suggest you hop on down the bunny trail to my profile, and read it, because you won't have a clue who this new character is and why she's in this story. It' sort of - okay, **extremely** - important here._

_That aside, I want to thank all of you who have stuck with this little puppy since it's beginnings as a whimiscal little plot bunny. For the reviews/alerts/favorites on IP, I love you all, you're totally amazing. This one jumps directly into stuff, no looking back, no preparation time; just roll with it, okay? I'm not 100% sure how often updates will be because it all depends on whether or not my mind wants to write fluently or not on either story. I'm thinking every two weeks, maybe? Does that sound fair? Too bad, my choice._

_I've been feeling odd lately, in a depressed sort of way. Not fun. Having struggles, but hopefully I managed to write it out of here. This was originally supposed to be out **yesterday** because of Bethany's birthday being October 31, but, like always, I got distracted on Saturday, and was too tired from life yesterday to do much of anything outside of watch the **Addams Family** and **Pitbulls and Parolees**, both of which I very much enjoyed. So as I ramble on here I see it fit to ask all of you a big favor: I had serious trouble comnig up with a name for this, and I was wondering if at any time you had a better idea than what is now being used, just shoot me a review or a PM, that would be TOTALLY amazing and I will probably love you forever. Anyway, hope you enjoy this! Ooo! And I took some creative license here as well. You see, the mall itself is real, but as it stands, I've never actually been there, therefore have no idea if stores mentioned are in there at all. :) Love you! - Taylorrr! xx_

_Disclaimer: **-instert generic "I do not own Criminal Minds" disclaimer, as well as "I do not own Zumiez, Pac Sun, or Joe Boxer's" disclaimers here-**_

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**Chapter One**

_"Forgiveness is the final form of love." -Reinhold Niebuhr_

"Hello?"

"_Yes. May I speak to Emily Prentiss?_"

"This is she."

"_Ms. Prentiss, my name is Officer Rankin down at Georgetown Park mall in DC. We have Bethany down here with a few other kids. We caught a whole group of them skateboarding around here and grinding on the fountain. We believe them to be a danger to the public and are asking you if you could come down here and get her_."

Her jaw practically hit the floor. "Wha- yes, yes, I'll be there in a few minutes. Sir, I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding. See, Bethany isn't that kind of kid," she assured, rising from her spot on the couch, ignoring the looks JJ and Garcia were giving her.

He gave a short, sarcastic laugh. "_Of course she's not_." There was a click, and all Prentiss could do was stare at the phone in her hand.

"What was _that_?" JJ spoke up, eyebrows halfway up her forehead.

"Apparently Bethany - you know the kid I just _busted my ass_ to get custody of a month ago - got caught with a bunch of her so called _'friends'_ skateboarding around Georgetown Park."

"_Our_ Bethany?" asked Garcia.

"Yes." Emily picked up her purse and swiped her keys off the kitchen counter.

She shook her head. "Somebody's in trouble," she sing-songed.

"You guys can stay if you want, but when I get back there's going to be one _very_ unhappy teenager here, too," she warned, slipping on a pair of clogs from beside her front door.

"I have to head home anyway. I promised Will that we could take Henry to his friend's barbeque today," JJ explained, rising from the sofa and heading for the door.

Emily looked to Penelope who once again shook her head. "I figured I'd stay here to do some damage control when you get back. After all, she said I'm like her older sister so it's only natural."

She raised no objection, so the two women exited, and parted ways at their cars. The entire way to the mall, Prentiss was fuming. How could she have been so stupid? Especially after what had happened only one month before. Her rage had not been watered out by the time she arrived either. In fact, people actually jumped out of her way as she stormed to the small mall police office on the top floor. There was a slightly large man sitting behind the front desk, feet out to the side, starring at the woman before him. "Can I help you?"

She automatically pulled out her credentials and flashed it to him. "Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss," she introduced, accompanied by an icy stare. "I'm here to pick up my daughter Bethany."

Alarmed at her full title, the man jumped up, revealing his cheap mall-cop uniform. "Right this way, Agent Prentiss."

She followed him through a door behind his desk, down a hallway and right to a line of benches where seven or eight kids were sitting with the same expression of boredom and bitterness. Bethany was sitting in the middle, the only girl in the line of guys. She had her favorite black beanie she got from Morgan on her head, some extra material falling backward, black skinny jeans with the belt Garcia had given her, and a white tee shirt with graffiti letters spelling out 'Ninja' in multiple colors. She was starring at the ground in front of her until Emily pointedly cleared her throat. All eight heads snapped up, but only Bethany actually jumped. Beside her, she recognized the face of Justin, looking nervous and guilty at the same time.

"Bethany _Alyxandria_ Prentiss," she snapped, arms crossed over her chest.

Bethany physically cringed at the use of her full name, but attempted to put on a defensive face. "Emily, this _isn't_ my fault! I _swear_ I didn't do anything! None of us did!" she exclaimed.

"Then would you care to explain to me why I'm picking you up from _mall_ _security_, all of whom seem to think otherwise?" She tapped her foot on the ground with an expectant look on her face.

All eight kids launched into motion, all trying to explain the story over each other. Bethany was making vigorous motions with her hands, Justin was speaking faster than she thought possible, and the others had red faces from talking so loud. Prentiss held up a hand, silencing them all immediately. "One at a time. Justin, go."

"Ms. Prentiss, honest, we didn't do _anything_. We were walking past Zumiez for the third time, and these guys came flying out on skateboards. They were a little older than us, but they had one girl with them. We ran after 'em to see how bad they'd get in trouble, but they had stopped when we got to the fountain, and security got their right when we did, and... They thought it was us. We didn't do _anything_," he insisted in a quieter tone.

"Suddenly it's a crime to own a skateboard," one kid with a multicolored faux hawk bit, slouching back, baggy jeans bunching at the knees.

"James's right," Bethany said, calmer than before.

Emily lifted a brow. "Now tell me this, did any of you actually ride one of your skateboards inside the mall before the other group did?"

They looked at each other with matching expressions of guilt. She nodded, slowly. "That's what I thought. Bethany, let's go. We're going home."

"Emi- _Why_? I didn't ride! Why don't you believe me?"

She glanced around for a second. "I'm not saying I don't. All I'm saying is that you don't exactly have the best track record when it comes to telling the truth."

She opened and closed her mouth a few times before making a high pitched scoffing noise. "That was completely different!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air in exasperation. Sensing her friends' awkwardness, she turned to them. "Will one of you please tell her the truth?"

They just sat and starred for a minute before one with bleach blonde hair spoke up. "Dude- Miss, she didn't do nothin'."

Emily narrowed her eyes again before turning to Bethany. "We'll discuss this at home," she said in a low voice.

Bethany glared at her, jaw set and eyes burning holes into her head. "Fine," she replied through clenched teeth.

The ride back to the Prentiss apartment was completely silent, neither words nor music broke it. Bethany had her feet on the dashboard and was staring straight ahead, still fuming. When the front door slammed behind her, Garcia nearly jumped out of her skin. "Well, hello to you, too there kiddo," she said, but it lacked its usual brightness.

Not noticing nor hearing, she turned to her adoptive mother. "I can't believe you embarrassed me in front of my friends!"

"Your _friends_? You call those kids your _friends_? They got you into trouble, Bethany! All of you had complete disregard for the rules. You knew exactly what you were doing."

"Emily, I freaking told them not to!" she yelled, her face growing red.

"And they just didn't listen?"

She raised her eyebrows at her disbelief. "_Yes_!"

"So what did you do, just sit there or run with them?"

She ran her hands through her hair, pulling on it slightly and shutting her eyes. "I went into Pac Sun and bought myself a tee shirt, which the stupid mall cops confiscated," she explained, her voice shaky with anger.

"Is that it?" Emily's own voice was calm now, not as agravated anymore.

"Yes."

"Give me your iPod and your cell phone."

Bethany nearly blew a blood vessel in her neck. "_What the hell_? Why?"

"For talking back to me."

Once again pissed off, she reached into her pockets and pulled out both items, slamming them into Prentiss' outstretched hand, then running up the stairs and slamming her bedroom door. Penelope, who had shrunk back into the couch at the first sign of raised voices, stood and gapped at her friend. "Emily..." she began, but couldn't seem to find the right words." Her birthday is tomorrow, honey, you shouldn't punish her if she _really_ didn't do anything."

Emily pinched the bridge of her nose. "I know... It just seemed like the right thing to do. I should probably go talk to her." sh was about to leave the room when her friend stopped her.

"No, Em, she'll be too mad to talk to you. Let me do it - she has no reason to be mad at me," she insisted. After a moment, she saw the subtle nod, and so she was the one walking up into the dragon's lair.

She knocked, but never waited for an answer. The door was unlocked, so she simply opened it to see Bethany sprawled out on her bed, face down. She heard a muffled voice attempt to yell "go away", but she took no heed. "It's Pennie, sugar," she said, closing the door behind her. "We need to talk."

Slowly, she flipped onto her back, scooching up a little so she rested her back against the head board. Her eyes and nose were red, but there were no traces of tears anywhere. "Talk."

Penelope took a seat on the chair at the computer desk and turned to face the younger child. "First off, both Emily and I believe you." Bethany opened her mouth, but she held up a hand. "Now, tomorrow is your birthday, and I don't particularly care if you pissed off a mall cop or not, but everyone needs to have a good birthday. So, I have taken it upon myself to come and talk to you about living with Emily. It's been an easy month so far, as I understand, but you need to know how passionate she can be. She takes everything extremely serious, but especially when it comes to your safety and well being. Trust me, every time she is gone for more than a day, JJ and I get an earful of 'I hope Bethany will be okay with me gone'. I mean, she does it on her off hours, but still. So, you're getting your stuff back, _but_, and that's a huge _but_, only if you apologize for talking back."

She bit her lip and nodded, rising from her position to hug her friend. Then, she turned and went back down the stairs slowly. She couldn't look at Emily for a few minutes; instead she chose to stare intently at her feet and fingers at her beltline. Her mother stood there patiently until her chin finally lifted and she could see into the bright green eyes she had come to adore. She hid a frown at the redness around them, as well as her nose, but ignored it as soon as she spoke. "I'm sorry. I was so far outta line, I felt like you weren't listening, and that's the only way I know how to handle stuff."

She nodded, and gently pulled her into a warm hug, which she eventually returned. They stayed like this for a moment as Penelope silently 'awwed' from the stairs.

* * *

They slept soundly that night, mostly from emotional exhaustion. Emily was the one to wake first, at 6:03 a.m. She showered and dressed before silently slipping out of the apartment at 6:57, knowing her destination was not work, for it was her day off, but elsewhere. It was there she arrived with a grin on her face just as the shop was opening, and a certain teenage girl was beginning to stir.

Bethany woke briefly to pee before falling back to sleep in her warm and cozy bed once again. She didn't wake again until quarter after nine. She sleepily rubbed her eyes, sitting up, and then stretched out her stiff limbs. She felt the usual soreness of her ribs - the doctor had assure her it was completely normal, even after they healed - then finally exited her room still dressed in her baggy, plaid Joe Boxer's and Skillet tee shirt, trudging down the stairs in her usual, half-awake state.

Prentiss was not in the kitchen, but then again, she couldn't see anything besides the kitchen until after she got her morning shot of coffee, even if it was barely half a cup full. After three sugars and a tiny bit of milk went down mixed in with some coffee, she finally was able to semi-function enough to find her way into the living room where Emily was sitting on the couch, watching Dr. Phil, or something. She plopped down beside her.

"Morning, hun."

Bethany made an indistinguishable noise from the back of her throat.

"Happy birthday."

Another strange noise.

There was a beat before she spoke again. "Hey, I'm gonna get you some of those bagels you love for breakfast; can you grab my shoes out of the front closet?" she asked, gesturing towards the door behind her.

With a grunt, Bethany stood back up and dragged her feet all the way to the closet. Reluctantly, she flung the door open, and as soon as she did, she felt something small and -alive- wiggling its way across her feet. She looked down to see a small, chestnut-brindle and white puppy sniffing her pants enthusiastically. It had a small green bow around its neck, and when it looked up at her, not only did its tail begin to wag furiously, but its entire rear end did as well. She glanced from the puppy to Emily twice questioningly before kneeling down to its level. "This for _me_?" she asked, the pup crawling into her lap, attempting to lick her face.

"Yep, she's all yours. She's half Boxer, half Pit bull. She's a rescue, too; she had three brothers and a sister, but her mom was too emaciated to care of them. The vets think she's about four months old."

"Does she have a name?"

"Not yet. Your choice."

Bethany picked her up so they were face to face. "Hmm. What should I name you?" The mutt simply blinked at her and licked her face, causing a smile. "How about... Pibbles?"

Emily, who had gotten up, lifted a brow. "Why Pibbles?"

"I dunno. It sorta sounds like Pitbull if you say it fast enough. She's half Pit bull, so it kinda fits," Bethany explained with a shrug, putting Pibbles down.

She chuckled. "Okay, then. Why don't you go get dressed and take her for a quick walk?"

As soon as the two scrambled up stairs, her cell phone began to ring. With a sigh, she picked it up off the coffee table with a less than enthusiastic "Prentiss".

"_Em, it's JJ. I really hate to do this to you on Bethany's birthday, but we have an emergency case in Indiana,_" came her friends voice.

She groaned. "Why the hell do all the weirdos have to come out on Halloween?"

JJ gave a short laugh. "I dunno, but this one's probably the new standard for weirdos."

"Great."

When Bethany reappeared with Pibbles at her heels at the bottom of the stairs, she stopped dead, seeing the disappointed look on Emily's face. Her own face fell, and she turned as she said, "I'll go get my bag..."

Emily threw her phone on the couch and buried her face in her hands. She let slip an aggravated, albeit strangled, cry and shook her head. If this was any indicator of what kind of case this would be, getting home would involve a lot of chocolate, sleep, and tequila.

"Aww, _**Pibbles**_!" came Bethany's aggravated yell from above her.

Yep, it was going to be a _long_ case.


	2. Chapter 2

_I have no excuse, other than my life being so insane. Indoor track has destroyed me, English class has taken my soul, and school has ripped apart my artistic license to shreds. Okay, maybe it's not so dramatic, but still. My mojo just decided to kick me in the shins and run off to hide behind a pile of poop I really did not want to go near. I honestly can't tell you in words how sorry I am for making you wait so insanely long to publish this. I promise that I will do my best to get chapter three out in a more timely manner, because three(?) months is too long. I want to thank everybody who has been waiting for this with baited breath, or at least mild curiosity. The plot line is thin, I know, but I am horrible at writing complicated mystery plots. I recently got an idea of a little one shot off of this little series, and I was debating on writing it. Would anybody like that? I pretty much want people to read it and know what the hell's going on. Nothing heavy, but fluffy. As we speak (so to speak... ha-ha... no.) I am contemplating on how to finish my chapter two for "A Long Way Gone", but also an original story that I'm debating on posting on my FictionPress account. Is anyone else on there? I barely use it, but mine is (fictionpress) .com/u/715910/Pirate_of_the_Heart {remove parentheses and spaces} . I may or may not post the story for a while, but who knows? I haven't even come up with a name for it yet. It's only a couple thousand words so far anyway, no biggie. My friends like it so far, so I suppose that's a good sign, right?_

_Anyway, here it is, in all it's, um, glory? It's not quite as long as the first chapter, but it's kinda close. Let me know how you like it, yell at me, whatever. Feel free to ask questions, and don't be afraid to critique it a little bit. Thanks! - Taylor. xx_

_Disclaimer: _**So, uh yeah, it's, uh... it's not mine... True story, bro.**

* * *

Once Bethany was safe and sound at the LaMontagne household, Prentiss hurried off to the airport, where she was supposed to be briefed with the rest of the team. Under normal circumstances, she would be there long before Morgan or Rossi or even Reid, but instead she was the last one to arrive. She was ushered aboard, go-bag shoved somewhere she didn't see, and her team engulfed her almost immediately.

"There's been a string of abductions in Springville, Indiana. First it was thirty-four year old Aván Walker, then twenty-two year old Calla James, then forty year old Matthew Kale, and finally twenty-eight year old Mariah Hart. All were working class, all had stable families, and all were abducted within a few hours of each other," JJ explained, throwing her a file folder.

"That's strange; they're all different. No specific type, per say, which probably means the unsub isn't doing this because of a memory or out of spite. Look, Aván Walker was half-Indian, Calla James was Native American, Matthew Kale was African American, and Mariah Hart was Caucasian. The only thing that physically connects them is that they were fit. The unsub must have an ulterior motive," she mused, flipping through it with furrowed brows. "What's the MO?"

"All were taken within a few feet of their front doors. Their keys, purses, and a few wallets were found practically on their doorsteps."

"No witnesses?"

"None that have come forward."

She rubbed her temples. "This case is going to be fun."

"Let's keep our heads up, here, Prentiss," said Hotch in his characteristically stern voice.

Morgan shifted in his seat beside Rossi, accidentally kicking Reid in the shins and Hotch in the foot, all of whom winced. "Any kids? Spouses? People who live with them?"

"Aván has a fiancée, Calla has a roommate, Matthew Kale is widowed, and Mariah has a daughter."

"And none of them saw anything?"

"None," was JJ's solemn reply.

"We're going to need to spread out here. Morgan, you will go to the James's house; Rossi will go to the Walker site; Reid, I need you at the Kale house with me; Prentiss, you're going to the Hart's house; and JJ, you need to set up at the police station. We land in a few hours - do what you need to do until then,"

Hotch ordered, shutting his file and stretching out in his seat.

* * *

Prentiss frowned as she slid out of the car. There were very few officers milling around, mostly just CSU collecting the last of whatever evidence there was left. Her frown deepened when she saw the only uniform clamber into his cruiser and pull away. Her heels clicked loudly against the pavement as she briskly walked to the men speaking beside the hedges against the suburban house. She flashed her badge. "Emily Prentiss with the FBI. Mind if I take a look around?"

One glanced from her badge to her face. He nodded, but didn't look very convinced. "You won't find much of anything. There wasn't much here in the first place," he said, skeptically.

"Actually, I was hoping to look inside. We're trying to find out as much about the victims as we can. We find it easier to catch some killers that way," she explained quickly.

"We've been in and out of this house all morning and we haven't found anything, but if it makes you happy, go ahead," the second said, gesturing to the door.

She paid them no heed as she stepped through the threshold into the slightly messy home. She took in all of the pictures hung on the wall, the drawings from years past beneath them, the papers placed on the computer desk in the living room, and even the DVDs on the rack. There were a lot of action, science fiction, and a few horrors, with seasons of Dog the Bounty Hunter, Castle, and Lost mixed in. She saw a few books strewn on the coffee table in front of the television. She glanced at the titles, none being books that Mariah would have read. Somehow she couldn't believe that her favorite books would be the Pretty Little Liars series.

Her attention shifted when there came a small thud from the floor above her. Hand hovering above her gun, she swiftly made her way up the stairs. She pulled it out of its holster and swept each room, the back of her mind screaming at Hotch for not sending each of them with backup. The first two rooms she passed, the bathroom and the master bedroom, were empty and still, but at the end of the hallway, the door was shut and locked against all intruders. She knocked, almost hesitantly. "FBI; open the door," she called, gun pointed at the ground. There was a small click, so she stepped back and raised her gun. The door swung open, but no one was to be seen. "Step out of the room, please."

Nothing happened for a moment, but eventually, the door moved to reveal a young girl with dark brown locks and terrified brown eyes. Emily breathed a sigh of relief, put her gun back, and studied the girl. "Hi," she started, awkwardly. "What's your name?" The girl just starred. "Can you tell me how old you are?" No answer. "O-kay... My name is Emily Prentiss. I work with the FBI; I'm here to find out who, um, took Mariah Hart. Do you know her?" After a moment, she gave a shaky nod. "Is she your mom?" Her eyes got even bigger as she nodded again. "Would you like to come down to the police station with me? We can wait for your mom there. Is that okay?"

The girl disappeared again, but came back with jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers on. Her eyes hadn't lost the fear in them, but she could now see the sadness and mystery hidden behind it. She looked up at the elder briefly, waiting for her to make the first move. Prentiss lead the way back down stairs and out the front door, purposefully ignoring the two gapping CSU's. She pulled out her phone and hit the speed dial. "Hotch, it's Prentiss. We have a possible witness."

* * *

Bethany smiled slightly as Pibbles licked the giggling Henry's face mercilessly. She shook her head, pulling the dog away from him. Will was out getting the Chinese food they'd ordered for dinner, leaving her to care for his son and her dog. She hardly minded, now used to having to watch her surrogate brother. He was cute, and plus Will gave her a couple bucks every once in a while — under the table, of course.

Henry grinned up at her, showing off the few tiny teeth he had in his mouth. She smiled back then stood, scooping him up right along. He shrieked and giggled at first, then gripped the sleeve of her shirt as if it were a lifeline. "Whaddya' think, Henry, shall we take a stroll around the house?" she asked in the best melodramatic voice she could muster. It would have made every single Degrassi cast member facepalm. Henry, on the other hand, widened his eyes and nodded excitedly. "Do you want to take Pibbles?"

"Pub-y!" She smiled and bounced him so he could rest on her hip.

"Okay then. Come on Pibs." Before she could take two steps towards the back door, the phone began its shrill ring from the hook beside the couch. With a sigh she let the little boy down, telling him to play with the dog before she picked it up and hit 'talk', not bothering with the caller ID. "LaMontagne's," she grunted with a striking resemblance to Will.

"_It's JJ,_" came the reply.

"Aunt Jenn! What's up? How's the case going? Did you find anything new? Is Emily okay? Where are you?" she fired off with more enthusiasm than a five year old on a sugar rush.

"_Slow down, Bethany. The case is fine, Emily is fine, now calm down before you try to give her a kidney. We're in Indiana. Em found a possible witness, but she's not talking. Anyway, I was just calling to check on Henry. Is he okay? Not giving you any trouble?_"

"No, he's peachy. He's playing with Pibbles right now. You want me to put him on for you?"

"_Oh, no thanks. Is Will there?_" she sounded a little disappointed and edgy, but Bethany just brushed it off.

"No; he went out to pick up some Chinese. Why?"

"_I just needed to talk to him, but it's fine. I'll call back later. Be safe_I," she instructed, sounding like she was about to hang up before, "hold on. Emily wants to talk to you."

She plopped down onto the sofa, waiting as the phone was passed. "Hello?"

"_Hey Beth, it's me,_" came her favorite BAU agent's voice. "_How's everything going?_"

"It's fine; what about you? I heard you can't get a witness to crack. That doesn't sound like you. Anything I can help with?" She furrowed her brow a little, glancing over to the two on the floor.

"_Uh, no. She's just shaken. It's like the opposite of how you reacted; you exploded, she's imploding... Kind of. But listen, this might take more than a couple of days. I just want you to promise me not to do anything stupid, okay? I mean it; no skateboarding around the mall, no throwing water balloons at cops, no using 'my mom's an FBI agent' to get out of doing homework—_"

"Okay, okay, I get it; I do some stupid stuff. I promise I won't do any of that." She rolled her eyes.

"_Okay_," Prentiss replied, not sounding entirely certain. "_I don't want any phone calls saying otherwise._" There was a momentary pause. "_Look, I have to go, but call me if something happens, okay?_"

"Yup."

"_I'll talk to you soon, Hun,_" she assured in a hurried tone. "_Love you._"

She bit her lip for a split second. "You too." And the conversation was over with a click of disconnection. Bethany starred at the hunk of dark plastic held in her hand for minutes until she felt a not-so-gentle finger poke her abs. Henry had pulled himself to stand beside the couch and was grinning at her. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Okay, buddy. Hold on."

* * *

Emily sat across from the girl who refused to look at anything but the dark, scratchy carpet at her feet. She'd been starring at it for almost twenty minutes, when she'd sat down. It had been another three hours since she'd hung up with Bethany. They hadn't been able to get a single word out of her at all since they'd picked her up almost twelve hours before, but Garcia had managed to wiggle the information out of birth and records. Her name was Jocelyn Marie; she was nine. Her father had died before she was born and she had lived with her mother all her life. She was a model fourth grader at Springville Elementary School, but was described as shy, withdrawn, and skittish. _They got her down to a tee_, Prentiss thought, bitterly.

"You know," she began, keeping her hopes set low, "I have a daughter, too." The girl glanced up with mild interest, but the same distant, sad chocolate eyes. "Yeah, her name is Bethany. She's only a few years older than you." Okay, so that was a bit of a stretch, but it was worth a shot. "I think you'd like her." Jocelyn shrugged, then returned to her intent examination of the ground a few feet in front of her. "It would really help us get your mom back if you told us what you saw, or heard. We could catch the bad guy really fast. Can you do that for us?" There was not a single motion, but then, three minutes later, she ever so slightly shook her head 'no'. Emily sighed, standing up. "You can ask one of the nice men over there to find me if you want to talk, okay?"

Not that she was expecting any, there was no reply, or even an indication that she'd heard anything at all. She walked away from the comfort of the small sitting area towards the rest of her team. Morgan had the faintest glimmers of hope in his eyes, but when she shook her head, she saw it shatter into a thousand small pieces. "She still won't talk. I think I've tried everything- we've tried everything, unless Rossi or Morgan got anything out of her." Both men looked away, signaling an automatic no. "Whatever she knows must be pretty damn horrific."

Hotch threw her a grim glare. "We won't know that for certain until she talks."

"Has Garcia gotten anything on our vic's? Any strange financials? Weird outings?"

As if on cue, the image of Penelope popped up on the screen of the laptop placed on the table in front of them. "Negativo," she said simply, focused on whatever she was typing. "But I have of yet to dig up anything on Calla James. Fear not, though, my fantabulously snazzy crime fighters, your fountain of all knowledge technical promises she will do everything within her power to bring you closer to catching the villain."

There was a moment taken by all profilers and cops within hearing distance to allow themselves a small smile before Morgan cut it off. "Thanks, Baby Girl."

"Anything for you, gorgeous." She disappeared as fast as she'd appeared.

Glancing at his watch, Hotch frowned. "We should call it a night before it gets much later. We'll bring in family members tomorrow to see if we can find anything there. In the meantime, JJ, does Hart have family members that can take care of her for the night?"

"No. The closest relative is in Michigan."

He heaved a sigh, refraining from rolling his eyes. "Would you mind if you could keep an eye on her until morning?"

She shook her head, glancing over at her inevitable roommate, who also shook her head. "Not at all. I'll just crash on the couch, I guess."

"Great. Get some rest, everybody; meet back here at eight sharp."


	3. Chapter 3

_Yo yo yo! Lookie here! A nine day update! I'm gooood! :) Are you proud of your writer? You should be. This one was supposed to be done two days ago, but I got a different muse screaming at me. Fear not, for I have finished chapter three. Not much happens here... until the end. It's more of a filler, I suppose, which I really hate to do, but alas it must be done. I wish it were longer, too. Three thousand words doesn't do much for the plot line, or my ego. I hope y'all start to piece together the case as the profilers do and that you start to see what might happen to everyone's favorite BAU teenager. She's kind of an asshole in this one. So is the one she's talking to, though, sooo... Honestly, that character has a mind of its own. I try to write her differently, but it never comes out right, you know? it's actually kind of annoying. I'm rambling again, aren't I?_

_*Shameless advertising* I just posted a new story for National Treasure, so if you like those movies, I suggest you check it out. It's called "The Lost Colony". I like it, I guess._

_I never heard about that one shot for Bethany and Prentiss... Does that mean no one wants it? Just curious. Side note: "A Long Way Gone" has been put on hold for the time being so I can finish a couple of chapters of *this* and that as well, so I don't have to lead you guys on all over again. I want to thank all my faithful readers again because you're all amazing and you deserve to be thanked. For the reviewers - I freaking love you. For the alert-ers - You freaking rock. For the favorite-ers - You're freaking amazing. You know the drill with questions/concerns. I love everyone who actually reads my authors notes, too, because I feel like those who do know my style a little better than those who don't. I'm going to go take a shower now... Enjoy! - Taylorrrr. xx_

_Disclaimer: **Let's see what I don't own: A sports car, a license to drive said sports car, a horse, fortune cookies, skinny jeans (surprising, ikr?), a pink sweater, Apple, and oh look, Criminal Minds. :( **_

* * *

Jocelyn kept her monk-like quietness throughout the night, not uttering a peep as the three went about their nightly routines. JJ and Emily debated — argued, rather — about who should take the couch, but when they exited the bathroom to find the girl sound asleep on it, they silently agreed to let her be. There was no way that either one could argue with that. They crawled into their respected beds facing each other, but didn't speak for a while. "I feel awful," the blonde admitted in a whisper. "She probably saw the bastard who did this and is too terrorized to tell anyone. I can't even imagine a nine year old going through so many traumas."

"Yeah, well, we can't all live glamorous lives, Jayje. There has to be some people who have made it through storms to help those who haven't. Where would some of our victims' families be if we refused to help them? Where would society be if there were no police officers, or firefighters, or guidance counselors? Sometimes you have to take a few hits so the rest of the world doesn't have to."

She bit her lip. "Since when do you like going all fortune cookie on me?"

Emily smiled. "Since I had Chinese the other night. My fortune cookie said I need to start 'being wiser.'"

"'Wise' does not necessarily mean fortune cookie."

"You have much to learn about being wise, young grasshopper," she mumbled then rolled over and promptly fell asleep.

It was far too soon when she awoke next. It was to a shrill cry from the couch ten feet away. In second she was there, keeling beside the thrashing form of Jocelyn while the suddenly awake JJ flipped on the lights. "Jocelyn," she repeated, gently shaking her shoulder, "it's okay; you're safe. Open your eyes. You're fine."

She sat bolt upright, suddenly awake, breath coming out as jagged heaves. Prentiss gently rubbed her back soothingly while JJ sat at her knees. Her breathing slowly steadied out to a semi-regular rate after a few minutes and her muscles began to relax. Both women exchanged looks of silent relief. "You want to tell us what happened?"

Jocelyn peaked out from behind her dark hair, eyes shining, but shook her head in the negative. JJ sighed and rubbed her face sleepily. "Well, it's 3:42 now, so if we're lucky we can get another three hours of sleep before we have to meet the team again."

Emily turned to the girl, flashing a sympathetic look. "Get some sleep. If you need anything, you know where we are."

* * *

Her eyes darted from person to person, never lingering for more than a split second. Making a quick decision, she pounced for the tall boy nearest her, aiming just in front of him. With arms stretched out, she grabbed the orange foam ball out of the air just before her toes touched ground again. She pivoted in a blur, hopped two steps away, then whipped it to a sandy haired boy with a blue piney covering a grey gym shirt. He expertly caught it, turned, and sent it flying into the net. She threw her hands in a victorious gesture.

"Bethany Prentiss?"

Her ego deflated a little as she flinched. Turning, she saw one of the young office secretaries motioning for her. Bethany could feel rather than see the stares that followed her to the black, metal gym door. She was easily two inches taller than the woman, but the latter had a more professional manner about her; more authoritative. Silently she turned and briskly walked off towards the offices. It was so brisk in fact, that Beth had to nearly trot to keep at the same pace. "What's this about?" she asked, but never got a reply. "It's not about Emily, is it?"

At the small office, they stopped. The secretary pointed down the short hallway where at the end was what students referred to as "the Dragon's Lair." It was crude, yes, but so true. Her eyes grew wide as she felt the tips of her fingers and toes position themselves on pins and needles. Hesitantly, she took a few steps forward; teeth sinking in to her lower lip like it were a lifeline. Her breathing was a little shaky, but she remained as calm as she could be. She'd been through her share of trouble, but it was at that moment that she actually feared for her sanity.

The drumming of her heart against her chest she was almost sure was audible to everyone in the world. Her hand rose from her side to reach for the handle, but before she could lay a finger on the metallic nob, it swung open as if all by itself. She had to use every fiber of her being not to jump backwards and sprint in the opposite direction. With a few more tentative steps she was in the Lair. No turning back. She reached behind her to shut the door, not taking her eyes off of the bookshelf straight ahead. There was a click, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw the grey haired man lift his head. He had no expression showing whatsoever. "Miss Prentiss, please, sit," he instructed in a cold tone. Not wanting to start an argument for once, she sunk down into a cushioned chair across the desk from him, choosing to stare at her hands. "Do you know why you're here?"

"No, sir."

"No idea at _all_? No guesses?"

"No, not really."

He sighed, leaning back and placing folded hands atop the papers he had been writing across. "So you have no recollection of Friday afternoon? I find that very convenient. Tell me, what do you remember about Friday?"

She wracked her brains for a minute, aimlessly starring at the ceiling. "I got up... Had breakfast with Emily... Went to school... Uh, got a good grade on some Geography assignment... Had pizza for lunch; that was good... Went to PE, then band then went home. Why? Did I do something?"

"Do you know of Jeremy Tyler?"

"Freshman, kinda tall, curly hair, quiet? Yeah, I know him." Her eyebrows pressed closer together just as her teeth pressed onto her lip again.

"Do remember him getting in a fight with someone last Friday?"

The image of the quiet kid she knew flashed through her mind briefly as she tried to imagine him fighting. "Um, is this a trick question?"

If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn he smiled. "No, no tricks. Do you remember it at all?"

She shook her head, lips turned down slightly, adding a "no" to clarify.

He shifted in his chair, eyes narrowing. "I would think you would remember jumping in to defend him."

Then it clicked. "Oh, _that_!" she exclaimed. "See, they weren't actually fighting-"

"They weren't?"

"No, it was a game. Ninja. Ever heard of it?" He shook his head, a look of mild amusement and disbelief creasing his unattractive features. "Oh, well, you try to hit the other person's arm. They got carried away, so I jumped in, but I got hit in the ribs — there's a bruise there if you don't believe me — so I hit the guy in the gut. It wasn't hard, but they stopped. It wasn't a fight, honest."

He shook his head, a sarcastic smile now on his lips. "The funny thing here, Bethany, is that I don't really believe you. It seems all too convenient that you '_forgot_' about it, and then feed me some story about them playing a game. It's even funnier that I've never heard of this game before."

She tilted her head slightly, eyebrows knitting themselves together in a bewildered look. "But, Principal-"

"So I think you should tell me the truth before I _suspend _the three of you for fighting on school property," he all but snarled.

"I did. That _is _the truth."

"If you're going to stick to that story, then you can leave right now."

"Hold on, you're not going to talk to Jeremy or that other kid? I know you're not a cop, or a fed, but you should at least question them too. That's what the FBI does, the police, probably the CIA if they need to. I mean come on, can't you be fair here?" she pleaded.

"No, no that's okay. I think I have all the information I need."

"Who gave you this information? Obviously you weren't there. Who told you about this?"

"I have my sources, and that's all you really need to worry about. Move along, Miss Prentiss," he replied, voice icy.

Bethany stood up, but didn't leave. "Okay fine, but I would be prepared for a phone call from either a stressed out, pissed off FBI agent, or an annoyed ex-cop who you can barely understand when he yells at you." She gave a sarcastic wave and was about to walk out when she heard him bark her name. She almost flinched, but turned on her heel, cocking an eyebrow.

"_Do not _threaten me with the FBI crap ever again. I can go over your head just as well. Understood?"

She didn't answer. She only disappeared from his view and stormed back to her gym class with a new drive. As she stepped back onto the court with her team, her extremely blonde friend Kale casually trotted over to her. She didn't have to look up to know it was him as she watched the ball fly from hand to hand across the line. "What was that all about? Are you in trouble or something?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"Our principal is just a douche bag; don't worry about it," she answered, simply, jumping up to grab the foam from the air as if sailed towards her. She pitched it towards the net, where it nearly hit a brunette girl in the face before landing in the bottom. Her team cheered, but she didn't acknowledge any of them. The whistle blew not a minute later, sending all running in to the locker rooms to change for the last period of the day.

* * *

Hotch swooped into the bullpen, causing three of the officers to jump when he came out from behind them. JJ would have laughed had the situation not been so grave. He looked from her to Rossi, then Morgan, who held a phone up near his chin. "Go ahead Garcia," Morgan said, then extended it out so they could all hear.

"Okay, so I went ahead and checked all of their financials, but came up with nada, so I checked all of their phone calls in and out."

"Please tell me there's good news in there somewhere, Garcia," Hotch said, arms crossed.

"Fear not, Boss Man. Every single one got a call just before they were taken from the same disposable cell phone. Not what gets weird there is that all but one conversation only lasted about thirty seconds. Mariah Hart was on the phone for almost ten minutes with the caller," she relayed in a slightly cheerful tone.

"What made her different from every other victim?" JJ wondered aloud.

In the same manner as Hotch, Emily swooped in. "She was the only one with a child, right?" she asked, and the same three uniforms jumped.

"Ten points to Ravenclaw," she chirped through the phone. Prentiss raised an eyebrow. "She was also the only one who had someone in the house. One other strange thing I found is that Matthew's wife Cecily died under the same unusual circumstances as Calla James' parents six years ago."

"Unusual how?" Dave asked, eyebrows raised towards his receding hairline.

"They fell off fire escapes of buildings in Indianapolis."

"Any suspicion of foul play?"

"Of course, but the trail went dead after a year so the detective on the case gave up on it. There wasn't any real evidence that pointed to anything, let alone to a person. Matthew Kale moved to Springville two months after she died, and Calla moved in with her dad in Springville."

"Was there any overlap in Indianapolis, Mama?"

"Cecily worked at the library, but other than that, I got nothing."

"Okay, thanks Garcia."

They hung up only to have Spencer appear in the doorway. "Jocelyn's aunt and uncle are here, so are Calla James' father, Walker's fiancée, and Calla's roommate," he announced, hands awkwardly shoved in his pockets.

JJ stepped away from them to bring them into interview rooms, her friend already headed to get Jocelyn from her place on the couch. When the families and friend of the victims were situated, the team split apart. JJ and Prentiss were automatically drawn to Jocelyn's aunt and uncle, Hotch and Rossi spoke with Calla's father and roommate, and Morgan and Reid were asked to talk with Aván's fiancée.

Jocelyn hesitated before she hugged her mother's sister and brother-in-law, both women noticed. She was distant, no doubt. They were enthusiastic in a morbid sort of way, apologizing for not getting there sooner. "Mrs. Cauhl, we need to ask you some questions about your sister," JJ informed her as they sat down at the table, just the three women.

"Yes of course. What do you need to know?"

"When was the last time you and Mariah spoke?"

She sighed, looking down at her hands. "It sounds terrible, but it's probably been close to a year and a half. We haven't always on the best of terms since our mother passed away."

"When was that?"

"Oh God... Five years ago? Six years ago? Joce was little. It was awful," Marissa Cauhl admitted, shaking her head sadly. "I swear she was the _only _woman who could get us to stop fighting when we were kids."

The agents glanced at each other. "If you don't mind me asking, how did she die, exactly?"

"Heart attack. She never even saw it coming. She was always so healthy and careful. Why?"

"Just a necessary question, ma'am. Nothing to worry about," Prentiss assured, trying to even her voice as best as possible. "Do you happen to know who Jocelyn's father is? We want to get in contact with him to see if he can tell us anything else."

Marissa looked surprised. "The father? _God_, no. Mariah and I weren't even speaking at the time. We didn't talk until she was born; she wanted me to be there with her, but when I asked her about the father, she just told me he wasn't important and not to worry about it. I let it drop after that."

"Do you know if anyone who would want to hurt Mariah?"

"She's an exercise jockey and a head waitress at a restaurant; I can't think of anyone who would want to hurt either one. She's not the bitch it seems like who gets in fights with her sister all the time. She's a good, kind person. Anyone who would rip her away from her daughter is one sick son of a bitch."

"What do you know about Jocelyn?"

"Jocelyn? She's quiet- she barely spoke two words to us the last time we visited. You saw how she greeted us. She doesn't talk much, but she's smart and remembers almost _everything_. When I asked her if she remembered me, she retold the story of what we did right down to what flavors of ice cream we got at the mall. She certainly doesn't trust easy, either. It took a ton of bribes and blackmail just to get her to say yes to me taking her out. Mariah said that was normal. I figured she was just shy, but I think it's worse than that. Why do you ask? She hasn't done something, has she?"

Both shook their heads vigorously. "No, no of course not. We have reason to believe she saw who took her mother, but she won't talk to us. We had to get her name from her birth certificate. We really need her to tell us what she saw; do you think you could get her to speak?" Prentiss asked, gently. She watched Marissa fidget a little, pushing a dark curl away from her face. Her body language screamed 'uncomfortable'. "Agents... It took me years to get her to say anything to me and my husband, and even now it's no small feat, so I wouldn't bet money."

"Thank you." JJ stood first, shook her hand, the exited, Emily on her heels. They looked at each other, then at Jocelyn, and heaved a sigh. "I think you were right about this one, Em," she confessed.

"As much as I love to hear that I'm right, I really wish I wasn't this time."


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello, my lovelies! I seriously meant to upload this last night, but once again my dad fell asleep at the computer and I was not able to edit it in time. I hate the word "filler" when I'm writing, but unfortunately that's pretty much what this chapter is._

_Holycrapholycrapholycrap! Did you guys catch the episode last night? I was about to go completely insane! And two weeks between episodes? That's a little ridiculous. I realllllyyyy don't want Paget to leave, the thought even depresses me. JJ comes back next one, though, so maybe... maybe it will be okay? I'm not sure how long I can last without them both off the air. This sucks! I love Seaver so far, but she's no JJ or Prentiss. I am also disappointed that we may never see what she does about her social life (or lack there of). No Hotch/Prentiss. No Morgan/Prentiss. Hell, no Rossi/Prentiss. Bad. I can't even make coherent sentences I'm so bent out of shape about this. I know I'll probably still watch it because, honestly, I love it, but stillll. If they kill her off, I may have to write a strongly written letter to the writers, then Tweet Paget Brewster to complain some more._

_Before I do something I regret, here's the chapter. I'm not sure when the next one is coming up, but hopefully it will be soon. I make no promises, however. My mind is like a four year old in a toy store- all over the place. Enjoy, review, alert, favorite... poop on it (just kidding, please don't poop on it). Whatever. Happy reading! - Taylorrrr. xx

* * *

_

Not long after she was done for the day, Beth found herself on a train to Quantico, with Will's blessing, of course. She had her headphones jammed in her ears so that Lacey Sturm (formerly Mosley) and John "the dog" Cooper could serenade her in peace. It worked for most of the trip, right up until she felt someone kick her bad leg. She flinched, suppressing a cry of pain just barely, and looked up to see who she would kill — or fatally maim — to see that no one was there. Upon looking down, however, there was a young boy with curly blonde locks sprawled on the floor, where he undoubtedly fell. She pulled the wires so she could hear like the rest of the world to hear him muttering what sounded like German curses. "Are you okay?"

He glanced up at Bethany incredulously for a moment. She noted his crystal blue eyes and the permanent dimple in his right cheek. The frustration on his face faded slowly as he rose to his feet, brushing off the invisible dirt on his baggy jeans. "Just a wounded pride. I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, smoothly. He gave her a lopsided grin that accented his dimple even further. She studied him, casually, taking a page from the BAU's book. He looked to be fifteen, maybe sixteen. He was probably athletic or at least visited the gym a few times a week, seeing as his forearms were, well, ripped. He was self-confident, judging from his whole demeanor as well as the shirt tight to his torso. It was then she realized that she spent way too much time around profilers.

"Ah, a little. I broke that ankle a few months ago," she replied, rubbing it up and down. "It didn't exactly feel _good_."

His smile faltered as he sank down into the empty seat beside her. "But, seriously, _are_ _you_ okay?" She nearly rolled her eyes at the irony; he was the one who fell, yet he was the one asking if she was okay.

"I'll live. It's not too bad, I guess. Are you okay? You didn't hit your head or anything?" Bethany glanced up at him. He was easily six inches taller than her, even if she wasn't bent over. He shook his head, sending perfect locks of curls tumbling into his eyes. He could make any girl swoon with one movement, and she struggled not to do the same.

"I'm fine, I promise." He put out his hand for her to take. "I'm Konrad."

She cleared her throat slightly. "Bethany," she answered, shaking his strong hand. It was callused and rough, but oddly gentle, too.

He flashed some pearly whites, released her hand, and sat back. "So where are you headed? Not headed to see a boyfriend, are you?"

"No. I'm going to visit my Aunt Penelope in Quantico."

Konrad chuckled lightly. "Is she one of those old aunts you never see and always insist on pinching your cheeks?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "No, not at all." Her voice was firm enough for him to stop and the smile completely vanish from his face.

"Oh," was all he could say for a minute as he squirmed under her weathering look. "I'm sorry; I have this bad habit of putting my foot in my mouth when I'm around... _People_. Yeah, pretty much people in general."

She nodded slowly, beginning to relax enough to rest her back against the seat again. "Ah. I find that kind of hard to believe; you don't look that flexible. I mean _maybe_ if your legs were a little bit longer or if you were a closet gymnast, but I seriously doubt you're a gymnast; you'd be more careful to not trip over random girls' legs on a train." By the end of her rambling, his eyebrows were halfway up his forehead. "That completely freaked you out, didn't it?"

He shrugged lazily. "Nah. I'd be creeped out if you told me what I was thinking right now. I'm sort of impressed, actually. I don't think anyone has ever had complete faith that I'm not a closet gymnast, especially someone I just met on a train. If you don't mind me asking, how did you learn all that?" His eyes were dancing over her facial features, landing on her eyes as he finished speaking. She felt a chill roll down her spine.

"My, uh," she tried dancing around the word several times before finally settling on: "My mom-" _flinch_ "-is a profiler for the FBI. My Aunt Penelope isn't actually my aunt; she's a tech analyst. I pick stuff up from them and their team. It's pretty easy to do anyway, just basic human instinct I guess. Like... Have you ever played 'Strangers in an Elevator'?" He nodded. "Like that, only, instead of trying to find the psychopath by their clothes and appearance, you also study their body language, verbal language, and other stuff."

He looked either surprised or impressed; she couldn't decide which. "Want to show me?"

Bethany blinked. "Uh, I can try," she responded, albeit hesitantly. She glanced around the almost empty car to find a good subject for profiling. She spotted a man in a business suit, briefcase in one hand, cell phone pressed to his ear in the other. She pointed to him casually. "See that guy over there with the seriously gelled hair? I'd say upper middle class, probably works for Corporate America, judging by the suit. The tie, see the little pattern on it? His wife probably picked it out for him. They most likely have kids, I mean, watch his face when he stops talking, it's like he's listening to nonsense ramblings of a little kid excited to talk to their dad. And seriously, what person doesn't smile when they listen to it? He probably either just got a promotion or a day off in the near future or is really late for something."

She looked to Konrad for a reaction, but all she could see was a dumbfounded expression. "You got all _that_ from some guy talking on his _cell_ _phone_?" he asked, incredulously.

"Yeah, but there's probably more that I missed. The actual profilers could tell you an approximation at his age, income, and what time he usually gets home. Sometimes they can figure out his favorite baseball team, too."

Before he could get another word out, the train began to slow down considerably, signalling they were about to stop. She stood, leg still a little sore, put her backpack on her shoulders, and shrugged. "This is my stop," she announced.

He stood, too, frowning slightly. "Already?"

"I got on in DC; what do you mean 'already'?"

"I didn't get to ask for your number."

Her eyebrows shot up, her eyes got wide, and her mouth hung open. She couldn't speak for a moment. "My number? My cell number?" she stammered, grabbing the back of the seat to steady herself as they slowed even more.

He just nodded, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "See, I was going to ask you out, but that's kind of hard to do if I don't know your number."

"Like, on a date?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "Two people going out to do something together?"

"Yeah, like that. Say tomorrow? At the movie theater on Seventh in DC? No funny stuff, I just wanted to see I Am Number Four with somebody, if that's okay. Would your mom let you? You did say she was in the FBI, so I don't know if she's super protective or-"

"No, no, it's fine; she's actually on a case right now in Indiana, so what she doesn't know won't hurt her." Against her better judgment, Emily's warnings, and the screaming of her conscience she pulled out a pen, took his wrist, and scrawled it on the inside of his palm. "_Your_ eyes _only_," she instructed, deadly serious. "What time?"

"Meet me there at eight."

She nodded just as they pulled to a complete stop and the doors opened. He gave a short wave as she stepped out onto the platform and out of sight. As the train pulled away, a wave of mild panic washed over her. _Why did I just do that?_ she thought, burying her face in her hand. But soon she got over it and was off, out of the station, to hail a cab. The driver starred at her like she was insane when she told him where she was going, but did so anyway. She paid the man with money reserved for Quantico only that Emily gave her at the beginning of every case. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get herself there and back without a hitch. Garcia fed her dinner when she came, so food wasn't a worry, either. She pulled out the badge they had given her over the summer as she passed through security. They smiled, nodded for her to continue on through the lobby.

She bounced on the balls of her feet as she waited for the elevator to take her to the floor she was sure to find Garcia residing in. When a set of doors opened, a few men in sharply tailored suits stepped out, giving her odd looks. One even stopped in front of her. "Are you sure you're in the right place, sweetheart? This isn't the mall, you know."

She plastered her best _ha-ha-in-your-face _look accompanied by the biggest smug she could muster as she held up the tag in front of his face. "You probably know my mom; Supervisory _Special_ _Agent_ Emily Prentiss with the _Behavior_ _Analysis_ Unit?" He looked like he'd just been slapped in the face, his collegues chuckling at him from a few feet away. "Now, if you'll _excuse_ me." She pushed past him, shoving thing pass in the back pocket of her strategically torn skinny jeans. She turned to press the button to find his eyes still on her, mouth almost hanging open. She gave a sarcastic wave, a fake smile, then jammed her finger against the right number, and the doors closed.

To her pleasure, not one person entered before she exited on the sixth floor. She ambled down the hall, past the glass doors, and strode right in to the TA's office, where she was typing away furiously on the keyboard. Until Bethany entered. She whipped around to see who could possibly be intruding her inner sanctum, but immediately relaxed when she saw who it was. "The Royal Princess of Redundant Redundancies has arrived and entered," Bethany announced, grandly extending her arms out. "You may now kneel on your knees and kiss my feet if that is what your desires wish."

"Why, your highness, I do believe that you've just made my day complete," she replied, playing along.

"I do tend to have an amusing habit of making peoples' days a little bit more entertaining," she said with a dramatic sigh, shutting the door behind her. She sat in the spare chair reserved specifically for her, backpack being dumped against the opposite wall to Garcia.

She swiveled back around and continued typing away with a grin on her face. "How was school? Still as dull and boring as I remember?"

"Yup. I think it's illegal to have fun in that place outside of the gym." She grinned. "How's the case going? Have they gotten anything out of the kid?"

Garcia shook her head with a sigh. "Alas, my love, the child has of yet to even speak to her family. But that brings me to the good part; her aunt and uncle finally got to the police station. They said they really haven't seen her in over a year. JJ says she's worse than Henry is when you try to get him to take cough medicine."

She scrunched her face, apologetically. "Ooo, that's pretty bad."

"Yeah, well, they keep trying," she assured, pausing from typing. After a beat, she pressed a button, and a box appeared on the screen bearing the faces of nearly half a dozen FBI agents. "Ah, my lovely crime fighters, to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your beautiful faces?"

"Hey, Baby Girl," Morgan replied, offering a half smile.

"But you see, that's where you're wrong. It is not only your favorite tech goddess, but your favorite, redundant, little princess as well. Come say hello, or bonjour... or both." She finished with a smile as the teenager leaned over her shoulder, a bright smile lighting her features considerably.

"Hello! Bon... Bon... Hola!" From the corner of her eye she saw Penelope's amused, yet confused look. "I never understood French..."

"Hey, hun," Prentiss said, just shy of flatly.

She slapped a hand over her heart, theatrically. "Oh, that's nice. You've been gone for over a day and all you can say is _'hey, hun'_? Huh, sometimes I wonder where your priorities are," she quipped.

Rossi's lips twitched, Reid was starring at sometime outside the shot, and, for an instant, Hotch actually looked amused. Both on the other end had to restrain themselves from hopping up and down and singing "we made him smile and you didn't" in very school-kid like fashion. When Prentis didn't do or say anything else, Bethany frowned. "Well _someone_'s a little grumpy today," she said. "Did a bug hit the windshield? Or did someone just piss in her corn flakes this morning?"

Penelope snorted; Morgan chuckled; Hotch shut his eyes and dropped his head in his hand. "Watch it," Emily warned. "I know where you're staying and I _know_ how to get Will to do things for me."

"Oh, please, I don't think the guy wants money, and it's illegal to use JJ as a baraning chip."

"Getting back to the case," the leader interjected, "what have you got for us, Garcia?"

"Well, as it turns out, their financials weren't as clean as I had

originally thought. Well, Calla's was and so was Matthew Kale's, but Mr. Walker actually took out five thousand dollars from his bank account the same day he disappeared. A few hours later it was put into his fiancée's account. Mariah Hart took out the same amount, but apparently, it was transferred to her daughter's savings account.

"Now, if that wasn't weird already, here's where it gets really bad. I spoke to the bank teller over the phone to save you guys the trip, and you know how you're always saying that victims of kidnapping usually take every opportunity to escape? Yeah, well, Mariah was the exception to that. He said that she was completely calm and handled it like it was just any other day. She even asked for one of those complimentary lollipops. Now, correct me if I'm wrong here, but that's not normal. The not being scared part, not the lollipops. I love those!"

"No, PG, you're right; it's not," Prentiss agreed, tucking her knuckles under her chin. "You said this was after they abducted? Yeah, that usually doesn't happen. Maybe they were moving it like they knew whether or not they were going to be killed. Is there any security footage where you can see the parking lots? Maybe there's a partial on whoever brought them there."

She blew out a short puff of air. "They were only able to send me the tapes a few minutes ago, so I haven't been able to do much with them, sugar."

Bethany slid the spare swivel chair over so that she was seated beside her. She rested her chin in her hand, eyebrows scrunched together. "Hold on, do you think that maybe they knew the guy that took them? I mean, it would make sense, right? That could be why they weren't freaked out."

JJ appeared at the corner of the screen, shaking her head. "Not necessarily; it doesn't explain why Jocelyn is so terrified. Trust me, when you have a kid, there aren't many people you know and are used to that they don't, especially when you're a single parent."

"Bethany could be on to something, though," Dave pointed out, thoughtfully. "It could be someone they knew when they were younger."

"But, I would have found it if they had, don't you think?"

Morgan shrugged a little before starting, "Of course, but they may have some things sealed away so that no one could ever find. Maybe they have something to hide."

"Maybe, but Calla James is a lot younger than them. Not so much Mariah, but Kale is eighteen years her elder. How and why would they be involved with each other?"

Hotch glanced at his team, then to the screen. "We'll have to talk to the families again and ask if they've seen any of our vic's. Garcia, in the meantime, go over those security tapes and see if you can get an ID on the car or driver."

"Your wish is my command, master."

On the other end, Hotch nodded to his team, and all but he and Prentiss walked off in all directions. They exchanged a glance, and a shadow of a smile before he walked away as well. She leaned over to the web camera, staring her daughter as straight a stare as she could manage with the cameras, and said, "Don't do anything _stupid_."

She held up her hands. "I will try my best, but after that I cannot be held responsible for any and-or all of my actions in a court of law," she recited, fighting back a grin.

Emily nodded with another twitch of the lips. "I'm holding you to that. I'll see you when I get back."

And with that, the little box went black.

Bethany pushed away from the desk and swiveled around a few times. "They're missing something," she announced after a few minutes of relative silence (relative being the key word). "I can feel it. There has to be something in their lives that overlap with each other; they can't all be at random. I know if I were going to kidnap people, I would stick to the people I could manage, but this guy is all over the board. Walker would have been a helluva haul. Personally, I would have stuck with people Calla's type, maybe even Mariah, but definitely not the guys. They're lighter and probably not as difficult to grab. They would be more likely to fight back than the women would be. It would make more sense than taking random people… And them all being in the same town? I don't think that's coincidence at all. There's something we're missing, we just have to find it."

Penelope gave an airy laugh. "'We'? What did Morgan and Rossi warn you when you first came here?"

She huffed, throwing her back against the chair, arms crossed over her chest, and gave a sour expression. "Don't get involved because it's way too dangerous for a kid to be around," she recited like it physically pained her to do so. "But I can help! I know I can."

"I don't doubt that, Cashew, but Derek and Dave are right. They're only looking out for your safety. Maybe you should try it for yourself one time, I mean, it couldn't hurt."

She narrowed her eyes at the back of her head. "That hurt, Aunt Pennie; that _hurt_."

"Oh, come _on_, you know what I meant. No offense, kid, but you're pretty reckless."

"I prefer the term 'strong-willed'. Reckless makes me sound like a bad person. Like someone who's had too much whiskey and decided it'd be a good idea to go driving down the highway like it was the Autobahn, or the kid who was screwing around with a loaded gun. 'Strong-willed' is better."

"Another word to describe you would be stubborn." There was a beat before a smile spread across the techie's lips. "Or P.I.T.A."

"P.I.T.A?"

"Pain in the ass."

Beth's jaw nearly hit the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

_I have no excuse. Life's been crazy and I just kept putting it off (see, not an excuse, but the truth!). I got stuck, and didn't know what else to put, too, so after taking a few hours today and earlier this week, I got it done. I meant it to be done last Thursday because the day before that was Paget's last epsiode (omgomgomgomg! I **KNEW **it!), but, unfortunately, that did not happen. English class, sort of ironically, has been kicking my butt. And track started Monday (YAY!)._

_But enough about me; onto the story. This one is fairly long, or at least a few hundred words longer without this little author's note here. Regrettably, I don't think this story is going to be as many chapters as Important Principles was only because the plot moves a lot faster than IP's did. You learn a little more about one of our vic's background and see some people in a whole new light. I think it's fairly entertaining, but let me know anyway. :) Enjoy it! -Taylorr. xx_

_*Shameless advertising!* I'm writing this note while listening to the band **Kicking Daisies**. They just won Disney's Next Big Thing, which sounds really lame, and canned, but I swear they're REALLY good. My cousin is their merchandise person! They're cool people (trust me, I've hung out with them), so you should definitely listen to them and/or follow them on Twitter (kickingdaisies is their band's; duranzilla, ben_spremulli, carlydaisies, and caitlindaisies are their individual ones). Do it. ;)_

_Disclaimer: **Well, no, officer, I don't own Criminal Minds, or Lost, or Dr. Pepper for that matter... But Bethany and Pibbles are mine!**_

* * *

"Mr. James," she started, slowly. "We need you to tell us if you know any of these people, okay?"

He glanced at the first photo she laid out for him, and then up at the two agents. "Do you think one of them could have taken her?" he responded, naturally. "They don't look like killers."

Emily shook her head. "No, but we were wondering if they were somehow connected. They were abducted on the same day, in the same way your daughter was, and we need to figure out why."

He scanned the photos for a full minute before sighing up at the two of them. "I don't recognize any of them, but I don't know if maybe they knew my ex-wife. We separated when Calla was little, so I have no idea if she knew these people or not."

Hotch studied him intently. "You're saying you had no idea who was walking in and out of your daughter's life?" He shrugged, but nodded, solemnly. "That hardly seems like a safe thing to do." He was baiting him, but he refused to take it.

"I was in a bad place back then. I lost my job, the bills were piling up, and even my _dog_ left me."

"And how did you suddenly turn that around when her mother and stepfather died?"

"Someone found out about them and gave an anonymous donation to me."

Emily raised her eyebrows. "And that didn't strike you as odd at all?"

"Well... No. I thought that the church had somehow found out and decided to help me out a little. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to get me on my feet again. You know, pay off most of the bills, fix my car so it worked again, and got a few weeks' worth of groceries. I finally got another job after that. Calla never complained, but I knew she wasn't thrilled about our living conditions. I tried to make it work as best I could; I think she knew that... Oh, God. What if she _didn't_?" George buried his face in his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Emily looked to Hotch to see his reaction, but the ever emotionless Aaron Hotchner didn't even blink. Instead, he sank down into the cold, metal chair beside her. Leaning forward on his elbows, he starred at the main straight in the face. She adjusted her posture so she was almost the opposite of him, hands resting in her lap, back flush against the back of her chair. "Mr. James, we need you to focus. Can you think of anyone who would have been around your ex-wife enough to get to know Calla personally? It could be an ex-boyfriend, or a co-worker, or anyone they saw on a regular basis."

The poor man blinked back tears as his eyes shifted to stare at the ceiling. He was quiet for a minute. "She had these friends that would go to their house every so often. I don't know what they did, exactly, but it was probably just a movie night or something. I remember because I tried to pick Calla up once, but Jaynie said that they were busy and I couldn't interrupt them. I thought it was just because we had only just finalized the divorce and she didn't trust me, but it was still extremely weird. After that, she told me not to call or come over on Wednesday nights."

"Wednesdays? Did she say anything else?" Prentiss was interested now, gears in her head whirring, trying to fit together the puzzle with half the pieces missing. Her lips curved with gravity and her forehead crinkled. It was her almost laughable concentrated look that Bethany had pointed out so many times, grin slapped across her features.

"Uh," he began, "no, no she never said. Do think that could be connected?"

"There's no way to be certain," she replied, quickly. "Do you know any of the others' names?"

He shook his head, apologetically. "Sorry. Like I said, she told me never to ask again."

The agents stood, abruptly and simultaneously. Aaron nodded. "If you remember anything about them, don't hesitate to tell us."

When the door finally clicked shut behind Emily, they were greeted with Morgan's grim face. They waited a moment to step a few paces away from the doors before anyone said a thing. Calla's roommate said she didn't say a thing to anyone about her family. All she said was that her parents were divorced, never even told her that her mother was dead. But apparently there was a drawer in her room full of pictures that the roommate wasn't allowed to touch. Sounds to me like she had something to hide."

"Yes, but the father doesn't recognize any of the people we showed him. He said that his ex-wife kept him as far away as humanly possible on certain nights. We think whoever it was that the mother was involved with may be connected with the kidnappings," Hotch explain, in a low voice. "Did uniforms ever find the drawer?"

He shook his head, reluctantly. "They tore through every single one in the place and couldn't find any pictures of any kind."

"Something's bound to turn up; we just have to start looking in the right places."

"Prentiss, I want you to go help Rossi with Walker's fiancée, see if you can get anything else out of her. Morgan, I need you to help Reid with the geographical profile. We know a lot already, but we need more."

* * *

It was almost completely dark when she arrived outside of the movie theater that night. Despite the security that the pocket knife was in the front pockets of her denims, she still felt an overpowering sense of foreboding. Her eyes constantly searched the buzzing streets and sidewalks for someone who wasn't there. Granted she was a few minutes early, she still thought he may have gotten there even before. She was mildly disappointed when she hadn't spotted the curls that would forever be burned into her brain.

And so, she waited.

At first, she tried pacing back and forth in front of the doors. When that didn't seem to help any, she tried standing against the sign bearing Alex Petifer's stunning silhouette. And when that didn't work either, she sunk down onto the curb, knees almost to her face, arms carelessly hanging off them. It was there she stayed for almost an hour, waiting. The crowds died down and the traffic slowed some, but his face was nowhere in sight. She hid the quivering of her chin and the glaze over her eyes by dropping her face onto her arms. Her body shook some with her breathing, despite the tenseness.

It was only when the last stragglers of movie goers began filing out of the theater did she accept defeat. She disguised a sniffle with a cough before rising to her feet to make the short trek to her temporary home. A crisp wind blew and tore at her face; she pulled her jacket closer, wiping at her eyes with numb fingers. She passed few people at all, but those who did pass didn't acknowledge her in the slightest, something that she very much appreciated.

She had plenty of time to think on her walk. So much time, if fact, that she made a complete decision by the time she slid the key into the deadbolt of the front door. The entire house was dark, no doubt because of the late hour, making it a bit more difficult to navigate to the room she claimed as her own. She shut the door silently behind her, flipping the light switch simultaneously. It took a moment for the fluorescent bulbs to kick in fully, but when they did, she was able to see the pale walls and floor littered with clothes, all of which she ignored, in favor of the puppy curled up on her bed, nearly in the same position she'd left her in.

Pibbles blinked a few times as she was roused by a gentle hand gathering her entire body. She was pressed against another. "Pibs... I can't do this. I have to leave, okay? You'll understand, right? I promise I'll be back. I just need some time."

The two of them fell asleep curled up there not long after. She woke hours later, going through the motions of her daily routine with hardly a care. When she got home, however, Will was out in the backyard, letting Henry run around with the dog, no doubt to burn off some of the endless energy he had. She crammed all of the necessities she could think of into a bag she found in her closet without a second thought as to what exactly she was doing. Thinking seemed useless by then.

When the things she needed most were in, she slung the strap over her shoulder, slipped on her favorite pair of Sambas, and stalked out of her room. Her steps were cautious but deliberate as she crossed the house towards the front door. To her dismay, just as she put her hand on the door knob, the back door slid open with a click, sending her diving for the couch. The bag she had previously held was hastily shoved under the coffee table as she fumbled to get her cheap, old phone out of her pocket. She heard the door shut with the same metallic click, then footsteps, accompanied by a voice, that floated through the house. She pressed herself as far back as she could while trying to look normal, pretending to text. Will appeared with the dozing Henry in his arms, head rested on his shoulder. He frowned at the sight of her. "Somethin' wrong here, Bethany?" he asked, his accent as thick as ever.

Her heart leapt into her throat, and she could hear it pounding. She glanced around before her eyes landed on him. She furrowed her brows for added effect. "What makes you think that something's _wrong_?"

"For starters, your leg is bouncing faster than the Easter bunny on crack," he began, shifting the sleeping boy a little as he stirred, "and there's a bag shoved under the coffee table."

Bethany's eyes fell on the hiding place, and it suddenly occurred to her that hiding it under a glass table was probably not the best idea. She then looked to see her leg twitching. She stopped it short. Will kept his eyes boring into hers in attempts to get her to talk, as Henry stirred in his sleep. She knew she had to make up possibly one of the best lies in history in a matter of three seconds; the problem was that she wasn't feeling very creative at the time. "I was, uh, watching... _Lost_! And it was the one where Kate and Juliet get chased by the smoke monster, and... I had to turn it off because... It's too intense for me. See? I'm so jumpy right now Pibbles could make me jump," she stammered, silently begging that it would work.

He glanced at the black flat screen on the opposite wall, and then back to Bethany. "Okay," he started, slowly. She held in a breath of relief as he continued, "maybe you shouldn't be watching that kinda stuff. Maybe it's too soon. But... Why is there a bag under the table?"

Her eyes widened a fraction as she frantically searched her brain for a good answer. "It's my friend's gym bag. I was going to run it over to her after the show was over... Can I go now?"

He shrugged a little. "If ya don't mind missin' dinner, then go 'head. Just make sho' ya lock the door behin' ya."

Rising to her feet, a small smile spread across her lips. "Thanks Will. I'll be back," she assured, bag now in hand. He waved her off. "Oh, you wouldn't mind feeding Pibs, would you?"

"Sure."

She nodded a little and continued on her way to the front door. Once it was closed and locked shut behind her, she sighed in sincere relief. There were still a few things left for her to do, but she had made it over the first hurtle without a hitch. She knew full well it wouldn't be either fun or easy, but it needed to be done. And that's what drove her forward.

* * *

Prentiss rubbed her temples as Reid spoke to the officers in the other room. Her head was beginning to pound from the stress of the day. Spencer had luckily made a break in the geographical profile, so he was delivering it to the uniforms. All they had been able to get out of Jocelyn all day was what kind of soda she wanted with lunch; Dr. Pepper. Apparently she wasn't very picky about food, but loved her Dr. Pepper. The severity of the situation did not seem to have soaked in with her yet; otherwise they would have known who did it already. It was times like these where all she wished was to go home and have an ice cold beer and watch the Nationals lose on cable.

Her endless patients was, for once, wearing thin, and it had nothing to do with Bethany and her ridiculous antics. She rolled her eyes in remembrance that she hadn't called since their video chat the previous night. _Ah well_, she thought, _tomorrow morning_. With that in mind, she picked up her phone, shoved it in her pocket, and began to walk out. Halfway to the door she was met by JJ matching her pace. She glanced over at her, face still etched with a tired expression. "Thought you left already."

There was a small, airy snort. "Yeah, well, duty called. What about you? You usually don't stay this late."

"I got stuck running in circles and I'm tired."

"I second that."

The short drive from the police station to their hotel was comfortably quiet; the walk from the car to their room the same. Emily extracted the key from the bottom of her pocket after little difficulty. It took a moment for her to get it out, but was just enough for the two women to hear a faint rustling from beyond the door. JJ's eyes widened a little as both of their right hands instinctively pulled guns from the holsters. Prentiss glanced back at her, one hand on the doorknob, the other clutching her weapon. At he sight of the other's nod, she turned her hand and pushed the door wide open, sending it bouncing off the wall. They stormed in, expecting to see a psychopathic son-of-a-bitch standing there, but what — who — they saw surprised them even more.

Standing there with an expression that matched that of a deer caught in a pair of headlights, was Bethany.

They lowered their weapons back to where they'd gotten them, Emily not taking her angry glare off her daughter. The teenager visibly gulped, her eyes still wide with fright, as well as surprise. After an intense few beats of motionless silence, she opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. So, she tried again, ending in the same results. Emily spoke for her. "Bethany. Alyxandria." She winced. "What the hell are you doing here? You should be in DC right now. Sleeping. You have five seconds to give me an explanation better than you've ever had before; otherwise neither your ass nor your face will be seeing the light of day again for a very, very long time. Go."

"I-" she started, but couldn't get past the first word. Even with all her careful planning and plotting in the one day she'd had, she had never considered the fact that she would almost certainly be caught, let alone be made to explain herself. "I... I can't." She shook her head, eyes dropping to the floor, defeated.

"_That's a first_," JJ muttered.

Completely ignoring her friend's comment, she began again. "Why don't you start by explaining how you got here in the first place?"

"I _may_ or _may_ not have used some of your old frequent flier miles... _And_ the cash you gave me for cab fares... And I _may_ have lied to Will to get out of the house. _And_ it's possible that I stopped in Pennsylvania on the way..."

"Anything else?"

"Oh, and it's not Garcia's fault that I manipulated her, either."

The elder let her squirm under her business stare for another minute; until Bethany plopped onto the bed, head buried in her hands. Immediately she was beside her. JJ silently excused herself into the bathroom to scrub off the layer of anxiety that coated her body while the pair on the bed didn't move. The younger took deep, albeit shaky, breaths to control the flood of guilt and remorse washing over her. Emily just sat, patiently waiting for further explanation. She realized then that it may have been too soon to declare her headache was Bethany-free.

It was approaching five full minutes of silence until either one said anything. When Bethany finally started, it was hesitant, to say the least. "I was fed up. There was so much bullsh-" she froze at the glare she felt boring into the back of her skull, "there, and I couldn't take it. So, I did what I do best; I ran. Here."

"So instead of facing your problems, you ran," she repeated, slowly, as if to understand. "What made this time be any different from when your mom died, or when your aunt and cousin died? You seemed pretty adamant that you could handle yourself back then, why not now?"

She fidgeted with a rip near the pocket of her jeans. Her shoulders slouched further towards her feet, and her teeth sunk into her lower lip. "I met this... _guy_, and he..." She wasn't sure how to put it, exactly. _'He broke my heart'_? _'He stood me up'_? Neither seemed very logical to tell Prentiss. So she danced around it. "He just wasn't who I thought he was."

Emily curved her hand over Beth's shoulder, and tugged her back into a sitting position. Her eyes were clouded with worry, and a tiny bit of sympathy. "_Did he hurt you_?"

The horror that crossed Bethany's face was enough to reassure her that it wasn't anything physical. When she further scanned her expression, the hurt and insecurity that met her was overwhelming. She just looked so... jaded. It was something she rarely saw out of the teenager. Her eyes lacked their usual spark of curiosity and passion; her body language lacked the aliveness and intensity it usually held; most prominent of all was the fact that tears pooled on her eyelid. And it had nothing to do with being injured. It was a side of her girl she hadn't seen in months, the side that came out when she was nearly knocked off her feet with the massive pain killers they'd given her in the hospital. But, as much as she wanted to envelope her in a tight hug, she held her arms back. There was something else.

With one fluid motion, Prentiss held her chin in one hand while gently rubbing around her left eye and temple. The almost gold powder that had been applied there transferred itself onto her fingers as it revealed a dark purple fist imprint. It was almost yellow around the edges, but she could clearly make out each knuckle. Her eyebrows creased as Bethany shied away from her touch, even flinching as her fingers came into contact with it. "What did you do to get that?" she all but demanded.

"I told someone the truth. Then... we fought a little. It's not a big deal. It looks worse than it is. I got what I deserved, and that's all that matters."

Emily let her go, frowning. "Bethany, don't give me that _crap_. What did you do to deserve being punched in the face? The whole truth, not the remake."

"I did a stupid thing for someone I thought was my friend, but it turns out I was wrong. So, she gave me _this_," she pointed, "and I gave her one to match it."

"Okay, but what was the stupid thing? I already have a headache, Hun, and you not telling me is only going to make it worse."

Her face twisted just as she shook her head vigorously. "I... I can't. I just can't." With that, she stood up, crossed the room, and walked through the door JJ had not a second before.

The blonde agent glanced between the two before the door shut. Her eyebrows were nearly halfway up her forehead when she said, "What happened?"

Instead of answering, Emily flopped back onto the mattress, pulled the pillow over her face, and groaned into it. Oh yes, this case was shaping into a real winner faster than any of them could stop it.


	6. Chapter 6

_Aaahhh! I'm soooo sorry for the insanely long wait. I got off track again and got really lazy. I honestly have the attention span of a hamster (that's probably really insulting to hamsters.. sorry hamsters!). Happy summer everybody who lives above the equator. For everyone below... winter sucks, doesn't it? I hope everyone is doing well. I really meant to make this one longer than the rest,but I literally barely got it over 3,o00 words, so I'm sorry. On the bright side, this chapter moves things along, and it's reallyy juicy, so if you go back and read it four more times, I promise I won't blame you. Some of this could be really OOC, but I don't think it is. Let me know what you think. Reviews are always loved; they keep me smiling and moving along. Thanks so much for your faithfulness and patience! I really do appreciate all of it. -Taylorrr! xx_

_Disclaimer: **Hm, uh, well, it kinda isn't mine... but can we just be okay with the fact that I'm borrowing it? Kcool.**_

* * *

When the sun was finally able to break through the clouds that hid the horizon, the BAU was already buzzing about the small hotel, getting ready for their day. In the Jareau-Prentiss room, it was eerily quiet for having a teenager there. The teenager in question had not come out of the bathroom the night before until the two adults were long asleep. She'd laid on the floor parallel to JJ's side of the bed, not even bothering to grab a blanket or pillow, and gone to sleep as if nothing was missing at all. By morning her back was stiff and her limbs were cold, but her rationality and attitude hadn't changed in the slightest. Her dreams, which were nearly nightmares by then, were disrupted by the liaison gently shaking her shoulder. "We have to take you to the police station with us. We can't leave you here by yourself." Had it been anyone else, their hand would have had teeth marks in it by now.

Instead of relying on brute force or verbal abuse to get her to go away (simply because she'd since learned that it didn't work), she rolled on her back, rubbed her eyes, and let out a strangled "mhm." Once she was finally awake enough to function, Bethany was able to dress and brush her teeth with relative ease. Her ribs were sore and her body was screaming for something comfortable to sleep on, but her brain knew she couldn't, no matter how much she wanted to. She avoided Emily like the plague, and letting JJ alone as well. No one made any attempts to talk to one another, save for JJ's "can I borrow your toothpaste?" to Emily. Bethany was perfectly fine with the arrangement, as she preferred to keep the depths of her past as far down into as dark a place as possible.

They were the last ones to leave the hotel, taking the only available SUV in complete silence. It was becoming a theme for them, the two Prentiss' in particular. The officers in the station starred as they entered, the youngest trailing a few feet behind. She awkwardly passed a starring Morgan, glaring Hotch, and somewhat pleased Reid to seat herself on the couch, where she curled up against the wooden arm rest and began to fall asleep. "Prentiss, a word," Hotch nearly barked, all business. She didn't object nor hesitate as she followed him to a quieter corner of the office. "What the _hell_ is she doing here?"

She licked her lips, nervously, and rubbed her hands together. "She just showed up here last night. _Trust_ me Hotch, had I known she was going to do this, I would have cuffed her to a chair a _long_ time ago." It was an empty threat, but made the point clear.

Hotch rubbed a hand over his face, looking over worked and over stressed. "Just try and keep her in one place, we don't need some teenager wandering around."

"With all due respect, this is _Bethany_ we're talking about, so I highly doubt that once she's here she'll want to go anywhere else. "

"Exactly, this _is_ Bethany. You know exactly what she's capable of, as do I and the rest of the team, that's why I need you to keep her in one place. The last thing we need is Strauss sticking her nose into this investigation, too."

She let out a defeated sigh, nodded her head, and made her way back to the team. She eyed Bethany, who was still partially asleep on the couch, and trusted that the fact that she was usually a heavy sleeper would still reign true for the time being. "Have we gotten anything else since last night?"

"Garcia found some phone records from back in the nineties where all of them called the same number at least twice a week," Morgan explained, gesturing to the computer screen containing Penelope's face.

"Ah, Emily! _Please_ tell me you found her."

"Yeah, PG, she showed up last night at the hotel room. Did you give her any of that information or did she do it on her own?"

"She's a damn good con, is all I have to say. Now, what my chocolate god was telling you is true, however, the number has been disconnected for almost ten years. It was registered to the generic name of Jack Smith, who has done nothing since, leaving me to believe that it was an alias. Brilliant work, no? Anyway, I did some digging on where it was located, and came up with a vacant lot. Whoever this guy is has mastered his vanishing act."

"Keep digging, there has to be something that we're missing," Hotch instructed from behind. "We need to go back to the crime scenes, see if we can find anything else. JJ, I want you and Prentiss to head to Calla's apartment; Reid and Rossi to the Walker cite; Morgan to the Hart's; I'll go to Matthew Kale's. Call me if you find anything, otherwise meet back here in a few hours."

* * *

When Bethany awoke from her fitful slumber for the second time that morning, none of the BAU were anywhere in sight. The officers looked too busy to notice her, so the confused young teenager stood up, and stretched. She smoothed out her skinny jeans and readjusted the grey tee shirt that clung to her torso, then walked off to find any member of the team. She casually passed a man struggling to keep his composure whilst arguing with someone on the phone. After a moment, she figured it was probably his wife. She would've smiled, or even laughed, but she didn't. She wasn't sure why.

She turned down a hallway where, on either side, were doors with blinds pulled up, allowing her a complete view of who, or what, was inside each one. The first two were dark and empty, but the third had the blinds down, but not closed. The lights were bright, the walls were a bluish-grey. She was curious, as per usual, so she glanced around her, and upon seeing she was alone, she twisted the knob and slipped in. She silently shut it behind her and took in her surroundings. Bethany found herself in a room more narrow than the hallway, but longer than she expected, with a slightly tinted window on the opposite wall. Beside it was another door, the same tinted window. Even more curious, she stepped closer.

Through the window, she could see a young girl sitting at the metallic table, staring at the folded hands she had in front of her. Her expression was blank, yet a little tired. Chocolate brown hair framed her face, magnifying the already well-defined cheekbones, and dark eyes. Bethany frowned, slightly upset by the fact the poor kid was left in there alone for God-knows how long. She stared for a minute before the girl looked up at the window, almost right at Bethany. The teen bit back a gasp of surprise. The girl didn't look away.

In a moment of impulsivity and lack of thought, she stepped through the second door to the interrogation room. Immediately, the girl's head snapped in her direction, confusion and minor fear clouding her eyes. She was small, especially so in the large metal chair she was sitting in. Her eyes were chocolate brown, almost matching the color of her dark hair. Her body language had spoken of boredom and apprehension previously, but now spoke of fear and confusion. Beth tried to give a reassuring smile, but it failed miserably. She instead settled for taking hesitant steps to the chair across from her and lowering herself into it. It wasn't comfortable at all. "I'm Bethany."

There was a moment's pause. "You're not a cop," the other stated, just above a whisper.

She almost laughed out loud. "Nope. Not a cop. You're not cuffed up, so you're obviously not a criminal." The younger shook her head. "So, are you gonna tell me your name?"

She clearly hesitated before replying, "Jocelyn."

Bethany sat with Jocelyn for what seemed like hours. At first, things were dead silent between them. After the initial conversation had died after introductions, neither one had made any moves to do anything else than sit there and stare at the walls. It was boring for both. Jocelyn would occasionally shift in her seat, or fidget a little, but Bethany could barely sit still. She changed positions at least eight times before deciding to speak again. "So... How old are you? Like, ten? Eleven?"

"Nine."

She raised her eyebrows. "Wow. You look older than that." She paused, chewing on her lip absently. "Fourth grade, then? Yeah. I remember fourth grade. My mom and I were still in Annapolis. My hair was almost completely gone and my fashion choices weren't so hot," she chuckled at the memory. "My mom hadn't gotten past the guilt phase yet, so she kept doing everything she could to keep my spirits up. She even went out and got the new Avril Lavigne CD and promised to get me concert tickets the next time she was in the area. She was my _idol_ at the time. I remember thanking my mom endlessly and listening to the CD on loop for two weeks straight. I can still sing half the songs by heart." She couldn't miss the small, but still there, look of pain and longing in the younger's eyes. It made her heart ache for the poor kid. Bethany chalked it up to past family issues and moved on. "It was a really good year, fourth grade. I almost wish I could do it all over again." With a dramatic sigh, she shrugged. "But I can't. So, what about you? How's being nine?"

Jocelyn gave her a slightly sour look. "It sucks." It was blunt, to say the least.

Her lips twitched upwards, amused. In a certain way, it reminded her of herself. "Why do you say that?"

She shook her head, folding her arms across her chest, almost defiantly. "It just does."

"I'm guessing it has to do with why you're here in the first place. Come on, you can tell me. Whatever you say won't leave this building, I promise." She gave, what she hoped was, a reassuring smile, leaning her elbows on the table.

Jocelyn appeared to weigh her options, staring straight at Bethany for more than a couple of minutes. It seemed like hours. Eventually, she leaned forward a bit, trying to be at eye level. "Make it this room and you have a deal," she replied in a low voice.

Bethany stuck out a hand and they shook on it. "I'm all ears."

* * *

Prentiss and JJ were the last ones to arrive back to the station, with little more knowledge than when they left. The team were standing in a circle, discussing their findings as they swooped in. "I found a business card at the Kale cite a date and time for next week. I had Garcia check the business, but she said it cleared out soon after the calls stopped. The name on it was Jack Smith," Hotch relayed.

"Calla's roommate said she remembered a man calling the apartment the week before she disappeared asking for Calla. Someone who'd never called before. She said she'd forgotten to mention it to Calla."

"Rossi picked up an address and appointment book from Walker's house that I may be able to get something out of. It looked like it was fairly old, so with any luck, something from the nineties might show up."

All heads glanced to Morgan, the only member who hadn't thrown any information into the mixing pot. He gave them all a defeated look. JJ sighed into her hand. "I didn't find anything. The house was completely clean when I got there," Morgan admitted.

Emily raised her eyebrows. "Clean? It was fairly messy when I was there."

"Everything was neat. DVD's were on the rack, there weren't any papers lying around, nothing on the kitchen counters or coffee table, not even a dish in the sink or dishwasher. It was like a full service cleaning surface went through the whole house." He ran a hand over his shaven head as he spoke.

Hotch gave a signature frown. "Is it being monitored? Someone would have noticed if someone just walked in and wiped it clean."

"There weren't any CSU's there. Someone must've sent 'em home."

"There had to have been something in that house we missed the first few times for that to have happened," Rossi stated thoughtfully. "Something either obvious enough we would've recognized it as a clue, or badly hidden enough that we would've found by accident. Either way, there's only one person in the entire investigation who would know the answer."

JJ frowned slightly as she glanced around the room. It was a little odd that she didn't see Bethany, but downright concerning that she didn't see Jocelyn. "Uh, guys, where are the girls?" she asked, lifting her eyebrows.

The team did the same sweep of the room with their eyes, coming up with the same conclusion. Emily's expression shifted from confusion to annoyance. Morgan called out to one of the uniforms nearby. "Have you seen either one of the girls?"

The man stared blankly for a moment. "We put the younger on in an interrogation room while her family went to work something out with their car. Said something about not wanting to mess with the case. Room 3. But, the other one? I haven't seen her in hours. Couldn't've gone far, though. We would've stopped her."

Hotch lead the way down the hall, but not without throwing Emily a disapproving look. She let it bounce off as they entered the small room connecting to the interrogation room. Through the window, they saw Jocelyn sitting, starring at the one across from her. Incidentally, the other had her back to them, but the dusty-brown hair pretty much gave it away. Prentiss stopped herself from slapping a hand to her face as her boss threw another look her way. The rest of the team paid no mind.

Emily watched the two. Bethany was obviously saying something, but when she stopped, to everyone's surprise, Jocelyn replied. "I thought I asked you to keep her away from the case," Hotch said, lowly.

"I get it, and I'm sorry, but look;" she gestured to the window, "she got her to talk, something none of us have been able to do. Think about it. We might hear something important if we turn the mike on." Emily's eyes were locked with her superior's. The fear that she'd felt the first time she'd done it years before had long since faded, leaving confidence and familiarity in its wake. It was the look she'd used on most of the team at one point or another; the look that all of them knew to be the one that refused to lose.

He knew she was right. She could see it on his face. "Reid, turn the mike on."

When he did, Bethany's voice filled the room.

* * *

"So what happened? You said she get taken, but you probably know more than that."

Jocelyn looked around the room, as if checking to make sure no one else was there. "I was in my room, reading. I heard someone pull up outside. My mom always told me not to let anyone in if she wasn't there, so I wanted to make sure it wasn't her. I looked out the window and she was on the phone. I was gonna go back to my book, but she stopped and made a weird face, like something was wrong, so I didn't move. I couldn't, really. She dropped the bag of groceries and started yelling, almost. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I've never seen her like that before. I mean, she's yelled at me before, but not like that." She shook her head. "Then, a black van pulled up to the driveway, the door opened, and..." She shut her eyes.

Bethany reached out and covered the younger girl's hand with her own. "It's okay," she assured, quietly.

"When... When he was getting back in, he looked up at me. He starred at me. He looked really angry before, but when he looked at me, he smiled. I thought he was gonna get me too, so I ran and hit in my closet. I think I fell asleep until people started going in and out of my house. No one found me until that FBI lady got to my room. She kinda scared me. She was yelling, and I thought she would be mad at me for not stopping him."

Bethany furrowed her brows. "Why would she be mad at you?"

"Because I knew him."

"Jocelyn," she started, "who was it?" The girl just shook her head, eyes still shut tight. "If you tell me who it is, it will help them find your mom, I promise. Please, just tell me who it was."

Her eyes opened, but tears threatened to start a river on her face. "I don't like strangers. Mom says that they aren't always good people. I've heard all the stories about little girls who talk to strangers and get hurt because they did. I didn't wanna be like them. I don't like talkin' to people. I don't know if they will tell their friends what I say or not. I haveta' know. That's why I didn't tell anyone. I know Mom will be okay for a little while. She can take care of us."

"I promise that if you tell me, they will find your mom. I know I have to tell them, and I'm not going to lie to you about that, but they will find her."

Her eyes snapped open. "How do I know that?" she snapped, lower lip quivering.

"Because my mom is the FBI, and I know she'll do everything it takes to get her back for you. I trust her more than anyone else in the world. _You_ have to, too." Silently she hoped against hope that all the pleading and reasoning would somehow pay off.

She looked at the wall to her left for a minute, collecting her emotions, it seemed. When she looked back, her jaw was set and her expression was serious. "_It was my dad_."


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey everyone. Really sorry about the long wait for this chapter. Life's been kicking my ass lately. It's like one thing after another, you know? But anyway, thanks so much for your reviews! Literally, they make my day. Thanks to all the anonymous reviewers as well, I'd love to reply to you guys, but I can't PM you back. :( I hope this answers a lot of the questions you've asked. It'll be wrapping up within a chapter or two (maybe...). I don't think I'm going to do another sequel unless you guys really want one and if I have an idea for a new one. Let me know! - Taylor. xx_

_PS. This one's kinda intense._

_Disclaimer: **If this was mine, I'd probably lose my job for putting this on FF...**_

* * *

Bethany's jaw had dropped at Jocelyn's admission, not so much because of the shock, more because of the soap opera-esque twist, but she was quick to recover. She pushed stray dirty blonde hairs away from her face and tried to read the nine year old. She looked calmer than she had five minutes previously, but still a little shaken. The knowledge that her father had taken her mom away from her would probably haunt the poor kid long after Mariah would return. "Can you give me his name?" she asked, barely above a whisper. Slightly nervous, she bit her lower lip. She leaned forward a little more.

Jocelyn blinked at her for a moment, and then nodded. "Daniel Weyman." There were a few raps on the mirrored glass behind Bethany. Jocelyn looked alarmed. "What was that?"

"It was my mom. It's okay, I promise, but listen to me, they're going to call their tech analyst back in Virginia and find everything they can on him so they can rescue your mom and her friends. For now, you get to hang out with me and tell me everything else you know. I won't pry, but they really need more. Okay?"

The girl frowned a little before she nodded consent. "Okay. I can do that."

* * *

Within a minute of hearing Daniel Weyman's name, the team was in a tight circle in the bull pen, and connected with Penelope in Quantico with a "_If you're looking for the goddess of all things technical, speak now, otherwise be redirected to the office of too freakin' bad._"

"Hey Penelope, we need everything you can get on a guy named Daniel Weyman. We think he may be our unsub," Morgan explained.

There were sounds of keys rapidly being pushed from the other end followed by a creeped-out shudder. "_Okay well this guy screams homicidal maniac just from his driver's license. He was married to Mariah Hart back in ninety-nine, then divorced in two thousand one, and then disappeared. He transferred all of his money to another account that looks like it's another identity... Yep. Daniel Weyman is also known as a Frederick Orvin. He's been living under that alias ever since Weyman supposedly died of natural causes. He owns several properties in and around Springville, including a storage unit near the interstate, and a condo not far from the Hart house. Your best bet, however, would be the empty office space he purchased three weeks ago in a small lot just outside of Springville's limits. Sending the address to your phones... Now._"

"Thanks, PG."

"_Anything for you, doll face_."

Hotch alerted some of the uniforms of what they just learned as the rest of his team hastily threw on bulletproof vests and prepared for the worst. The local detective ordered a few uniforms around a little bit before at least fifteen people total left the precinct in a mad rush. Doors slammed shut, engines roared to life, and cruisers and SUV's pealed out of the lot, sirens and lights causing cars to scramble out of the way.

* * *

"He loved my mom, once. He would do anything for her. But then she got pregnant with me, and things changed, I guess. I asked her what last year, and she said that he got really scary. He would get angry with her all the time, sometimes so bad he would hit her. It got so bad she asked for a divorce so he couldn't do that to me when I was born."

"Did your mom say anything about how they met?"

Jocelyn starred at the table, thinking intently. "Actually, yeah. I found a picture of my parents and a bunch of other people awhile ago, and I asked who was in it and what it was. She said it was her friends. She said it was where she met my father."

Bethany leaned forward, folding her hands in front of her. "Do you remember any of their names? This is really important."

She bit her lip. "Um, there was... Matthew something—"

"Kale?"

She looked up at the teenager, confused and surprised. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Because he disappeared, too. Anybody else you remember?"

"Uh, yeah. There was Jayni Dee, I think. Walker, I don't remember his first name. Some guy called Robert, I think. Then there was... Cecily something or other."

"Is that it?"

She thought for a second, chewing her lower lip. "No. There was another one. I thought it was really weird 'cause she was just a little girl. She was blonde, but I don't remember— Calla! That was her name. Calla James. Mom said she was eleven at the time, that she was a good kid."

"And that's everyone?"

"Aside from my parents, yeah." She paused, glancing at Bethany. "Did I help?"

"You have no idea," she assured as she stood. She gave her a wide smile. "I'll be back in a minute. You want anything?"

"My mom back?"

The smile faltered a little. "She's coming, kid. Trust me." With that, she passed through both doors and stepped out of the nearly empty building. Leaning against the side, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and pressed the one on her speed dial list. It rang three times before someone answered. "We're almost to the building; this better be good."

"It is."

* * *

Prentiss stepped out of the Yukon last, immediately signaling for her boss. "Bethany just called me. She said Jocelyn just connected every single one of our vics to Daniel. She said Mariah called them friends. She even connected Calla's mom and step-father and Cecily Kale. This is definitely our guy. I just can't figure out why."

Hotch nodded, looking in the direction of the plain-looking building yards away. "My guess is that they all did something years ago that they didn't want anyone to know about. Daniel was the key to it, so he abducted them to make sure they didn't rat him out. He left Jocelyn because she didn't know anything. Cecily Kale and the Dee's were probably threats back when they died. Their 'accidents' most likely were because of Weyman. The question is what do they know that's so bad?"

"Something worth killing people over."

"Nothing is worth that."

"I know that and you know that, but them? I don't know. Daniel's sense of right and wrong went out the window a decade ago, maybe more."

"So how are we approaching this, Agent Hotchner?" the detective asked from ten feet away.

Hotch's eyes flicked over to him. "We don't know what he's fully capable of doing. We can't storm the place. Reasoning may be our only option."

"He's got four hostages; do you really think that reasoning is going to work?"

"At this point, it's all we have." Hotch turned to the cruiser next to the SUV, throwing a knowing look to Emily. He reached in and pulled out the bull horn from the passenger's seat. "Daniel Weyman, this is the FBI; come out of the building with your hands up."

The officers and agents gathered around the parking lot held their breaths for a good few minutes. There didn't seem to be any motion inside at first, but after probably five minutes, a young woman appeared in window of the door, her face unreadable. Before anyone could even put a foot forward to try to get her out, a gun pressed to her skull appeared. She solemnly held up a piece of cardboard with large, dark letters scrawled across it. '_He wants his daughter. Get her no one dies. No cops or feds'_ it read. Emily turned to hide a flinch. "Dammit," she swore under her breath. When she looked back, both the woman and the person wielding the gun were gone from view.

Morgan and Rossi strode over to her and Hotch. "Hotch, man," Morgan started, "we can't give her to him. How do we know what he'll do to her?"

Rossi raised his eyebrows, waiting for the response as well. Emily pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm not comfortable making her go in there either."

The stoic team leader kept his poker face. "Neither am I, but right now she's our bargaining chip."

Her jaw dropped. "She's a nine year old girl, Hotch, not a bargaining chip," she snapped.

He tossed her an icy glare, scolding her without saying a word. "I know that, Prentiss, but what else do you suggest we do?" His voice was icier than his stare.

She opened her mouth several times, not finding the words she was desperately trying to use. After a frustrated huff, she shrugged. "I don't know. Find another way. A loop hole or something."

Dave nodded, "she's right. His demands weren't specific enough to avoid loop holes. He said 'no cops or feds'; what if there was someone who wasn't either that we could trust to send in with the girl?"

All eyes snapped in his direction. Hotch's eyes narrowed, Morgan's face fell, Prentiss seemed conflicted, and Reid, who had sauntered over while they were debating, raised his eyebrows. "You don't mean…" he began.

Hotch took a breath, looking to Emily. "Make the call."

* * *

A younger uniform officer escorted the two from the station to the office building surrounded by police and agents alike. Bethany stepped out of the cruiser with confidence and preparedness, fully aware that the smaller girl behind her was completely terrified. Neither had a real idea of what exactly was going on, but both understood enough to know that it wouldn't be good. The elder spotted the BAU almost right away and lead the way over to them. She looked from one face to another, but only Hotch and Rossi could look her in the eyes. "What do we need to do?" she asked her voice even. She looked at Hotch, squinting slightly in the bright sun and pulling the cuffs of her long sleeve shirt into her fists.

Jocelyn practically hid behind Bethany's shoulder as Hotch began to speak. "Go in there and try to talk him into letting everybody go. We'll wire the both of you so we can hear what he's saying. We'll try to tell you what to do from here, but your main goal is to get in and get out safely. Is that understood?" he asked, specifically looking at the elder. "No hero crap."

Bethany barely blinked. "Yes, sir."

The nine year old nodded, shyly.

Once they had a mic hidden on their persons and a small earpiece in place, Morgan carefully handed Bethany the Beretta he kept strapped around his ankle. "You know the drill: emergencies only."

She looked up at him, surprised and nervous at the same time. "Thanks, Morgan," she said, sincerely.

He nodded, trying to give her what looked to be a reassuring smile. "Just come out sage, kid, alright?"

It was her turn to nod, and before she knew it, the two girls were being herded to the door as Bethany tucked the small gun into the back of her jeans, covering the butt with her shirt. She looked to Jocelyn. "Are you ready?"

The terrified look had never left her eyes. In fact, she looked even worse. She looked like she was one more shocker away from shaking more violently than a hypothermic patient. Her heart went out for the poor girl. She inhaled deeply. "I'm ready."

"Then let's go." She opened the door, almost gingerly. Despite her reservations, it opened without a hitch and Jocelyn slipped inside first, Bethany following close behind. There were a wall directly across from the entrance and two hallways leading off. She turned to the door, seeing Rossi subtly pointing to the right. Bethany nodded once, urging the smaller that way.

It was a long one. They walked for what seemed like hours before they finally turned left at the end. That one lead down another hall, but it was significantly shorter. At a fork, there was a cardboard sign pointing to a door, and then a down arrow below that. They glanced at each other, the younger rather nervously. Bethany jerked her head at the door, motioning for her to go first again.

_"Anything so far?"_ Hotch's even voice flowed into their ears, surprising them both enough to jump.

"Nothing yet," Bethany whispered back, "we're going down stairs now."

She was anxious. It was nearly impossible not to be. However, her anxiety was close to having a panic attack. The worst part? She knew Jocelyn was probably worse off than she was. They continued down a flight of stairs in complete and utter silence. She froze at the bottom. There was another sign that pointed to the door on the right. She grabbed Jocelyn's arm. "I don't know what's going to be on the other side of that door. Go slow; I'll be further behind you so they don't see me at first. Okay?"

After a numb nod, she yanked the door open. They slipped through it, but separated by about ten feet while they continued down that hall. _This is freaking ridiculous,_ she thought, somewhat annoyed. Jocelyn glanced over her shoulder just before she stopped at a corner. There was a deep voice coming from wherever it lead to. Both girls held their breath. Bethany gave a small nod as the go-ahead.

It was a tense moment when Jocelyn rounded the corner, the teenager not too far behind. The voice hadn't changed its tone or volume, so clearly she hadn't been spotted. However, when the teen saw what was around that corner, she knew it wouldn't take long for it to happen. It was a very tall room, at least fifty feet vertically. The inside of the building was hollow. To their right, towards the back of it, was a line of chairs with four people tied up. A tall man with a handlebar mustache was pacing in front of them, explaining something about loyalty and the importance of silence.

A shorter woman with the same brown hair as Jocelyn, who was center in the line of hostages, saw them first. Her eyes sparkled, but she looked away quickly. A deep breath later, Jocelyn seemed to collect herself enough to reach back and seize Bethany's right shirt sleeve. She patted the hand reassuringly. The woman looked back again, this time, her eyes shifting from the man to them and back. Bethany shook her head a fraction, making the shape of a gun with her left hand and then pointing to herself as well as the man who was obviously Daniel. The woman's eyes widened.

Out of nowhere, Jocelyn cleared her throat. Bethany pried her hand off and took a few steps behind the child. Daniel whipped around, a smile creasing his average features at first. It faltered a moment later. He glared at Bethany. "Who are you?" he boomed, probably trying to intimidate them. "I said no cops."

"I'm not a cop," she said firmly. "Do I look old enough?"

"I'm here just like you asked me to be," Jocelyn piped up. "Please let them go."

He turned his attention back to his daughter. "But Jocelyn, sweetie, wouldn't you like to have a nice little family reunion and meet all of our friends?" he said, overly sweetly.

"No, I want you to let them go."

"I can't do that. It's not time yet. There's still so much to do and so little time to do it."

"Why are you keeping them here?" she asked, quietly.

"They were going to do bad things, so I had to come and stop them. Don't you see? They were all going to make a huge mistake."

"Mom wouldn't do that!" she snapped, face creasing with frustration. Bethany was slightly impressed. "She would never do bad things! Tell him, Mom."

"She can't, darling," he informed her, taking a step forward. Bethany's hand drifted to her back slightly; Jocelyn took a step back.

"Why not? What did you do to her?"

"I haven't done anything to them… Yet."

"Why don't you tell us why you've done all this?" Bethany spoke this time, tired of them dancing around with words. "There's obviously a reason."

Daniel turned to the group, a sickly chuckle coming out of his mouth. It made her want to cringe. "She wants to know _why_," he told them through laughter. None of them even cracked a smile. "She wants to know _why_."

Her hand closed around the butt of the gun, her other arm tucked in her back pocket. "What's so funny about that?"

He didn't reply at first, just laughed heartily. "I'll tell you, if you really _want_ to know." He gestured to the free chairs beside a dark skinned man who reminded Bethany slightly of Morgan's uncle from various photos she'd caught him looking at. When they didn't take a seat, he raised his hands as if to surrender. "No harm will come to you just by sitting in a chair. I promise."

Jocelyn glanced to Bethany, who took her hand off the gun and gave a hesitant jerk of her head. "I'll stand, thanks," she said, walking behind the chairs. Jocelyn sank down into the one directly in front of her, but sat uneasily.

"_Keep him talking,_" Hotch said through the ear piece.

"Well, go on."

He gave a twisted smile. "Twelve years ago, we all met when we went camping, of all things. It was an end of the summer thing, and apparently we all had the same idea to go to the cliffs to camp. Your mom and I had just gotten married and we thought it would be fun. We were there a week before we all formally met. Calla, here, was just a youngster. We got along well, had some laughs and some good times. When it was time to leave, none of us wanted to let each other go. We decided that every Wednesday night we would get together and do something, the kid included.

"About a year later, we went back to the cliffs for posterity's sake. After a couple of days there, someone fell off and died. It was tragic, really, and quite accidental–"

"You're telling the story wrong," a female voice said from a few feet to their right. Daniel's angry eyes snapped in the direction of Calla.

"Ex_cuse_ me?"

"You're telling it _wrong_," she insisted.

He scoffed. "_Well_, if you think you can tell it _better_ then be my guest."

"Fine," she said, coolly. "We went back to the cliffs the next summer because he thought it would be fun. After a couple of days, we went to the edge, and there was a guy taking pictures. We asked him if he could move so we could take a picture, but he was really rude about it. He and Dan got really mad at each other and started fighting. Eventually, Dan pushed the guy over the edge. He threatened us not to tell anyone. We all agreed because we were so freaked out.

"A few years later, my parents were going to go to the police because they couldn't handle it anymore. Cecily offered to go with them. The next thing I knew, I got a phone call saying that they were dead. They never got the chance to… to tell anyone. They died because _he_–_" _she nodded her head to Daniel "-didn't want his ass to be thrown in jail. Selfish son of a bitch!" she snarled angrily.

"Shut up," he snapped, face twisted with rage. "I did what I had to do to protect us all! And you can't even appreciate it."

"_Sit tight, we're coming in,_" came Emily's voice this time.

"And when Mariah got pregnant, he thought she was going to go forward too, so he started hitting, am I right?" Bethany said.

"_Cut the hero shit_," Rossi told her sternly.

"So what? Maybe I was just wanted to keep you guys from getting in trouble. Maybe I did it out of the goodness of my heart!" he shouted, pulling a gun from the back of his pants. He waved it around as spoke. "Maybe I wanted our _kid_ to grow up thinking everything was okay, that her dad was everything she needs him to be. Mariah, I did this for _us_! How can you throw this back in my face?"

"Dan, put the gun away! You're not protecting your daughter by waving a gun in her face," Aván said, exasperatedly.

"Don't _tell me how to protect my child_!"

"Dude, she's not your child, she's never even met you before," Bethany said before she could stop herself. Her hand was on the gun again. She really didn't want to use it, but she was close to having no other option.

"Stay out of this!" he roared, pointing the gun straight at her. That was the first time she actually felt in danger in the situation. On impulse, she pulled out the Beretta and cocked it in one fluid motion.

"Please, don't make me use this," she said, her voice surprisingly even. "Just put it down and I'll put mine down."

"_Hang in there, kid, almost there_," Morgan assured.

"Dad, put it down, _please_. She's my _friend_!" Jocelyn practically pleaded, through tears. "Please!"

"Dan, put it down. She hasn't done anything."

"She knows too much."

"Dan, put it _down_."

"No! I _will_ protect us."

"Put it down."

"No."

"Please, don't make me do this."

"You know too much. I can't trust you."

"Put it down, Dan!"

"Dan!" a different woman's voice shrieked, distracting him from his stare down with Bethany. She kept her gun aimed at him, but her hands shook slightly. It had been Mariah who spoke up. "Please, just put it down. Your daughter doesn't need to watch you shoot someone, especially not a friend of hers. So, please, just put it away."

"I- I can't, Mariah. I… I have to protect my family. Can't you understand that?"

"No, I can't. No one has to die here, just put the gun away. For me."

Bethany bent down to Jocelyn's level. "Get up slowly and move back behind me," she whispered as the two adults fought back and forth. The nine year old did so, subtle enough not to raise suspicion. "Kneel down and try to untie them."

"She _has to _die," Dan shouted, turning back to Bethany. In a slit second, he pulled the trigger with a loud pop.

Her mind jumped back to last summer; Aedon, his father, the torture, the gun shots, the stabbings… the pain. She screamed at the top of her lungs, but nothing but air came out. She wanted to hide in a dark closet and never come out. She wanted so desperately to escape the torture. _To end this_.

But Bethany barely had time to react. The bullet was coming straight at her and all she could do was stand there. Things moved in slow motion; the flying object included. At the last moment, she threw herself sideways onto the ground. The bullet hit the wall and embedded itself there. From somewhere across the room, there was another shot fired. This time, it connected with flesh, but it wasn't hers.

When she had a second to recover, she looked through the chair legs to see Daniel Weyman crumpled on the ground with blood pouring out of his shoulder. The team, as well as a few SWAT members and local police force pouring into the room. She then pulled herself up, made sure Jocelyn hadn't seen, and helped to untie the rest of the adults in chairs. She was thanked, but it barely registered. She muttered her own 'thank yous' in a completely numb state. She watched absently as Jocelyn threw her arms around her mother and spun them around. She wanted to smile, but found that she just couldn't.

She caught sight of Emily and made a beeline for her. She collapsed into her arms and tucked her face into the crook of her neck. Before she really knew what she was doing, she was sobbing. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry," she repeated over and over again. She felt Emily's hand rubbing her back, but it did nothing to stop the racking sobs that went through her.

Emily led her out of the building, holding her the whole way. Bethany continued her mantra of "I'm sorry", but it became harder and harder to decipher. When they reached the SUV, they sat in the back together, the only sounds coming from Bethany's attempts to stop crying. The cuffs of her scarlet thermal shirt were balled up in her hands tightly. Her knuckles were white.

When she calmed down, Emily brushed a few locks of hair behind her ear. "Talk to me, Beth," she said, softly.

Her breath hitched as she tried to take a deep breath. "I-I t-tried to get h-him t-to p-put the gun d-down, b-b-but he sh-shot a-and I… I was s-so s-scared I wouldn't m-make it this time. I-I didn't want t-to die," she managed to convey, almost completely understandably.

Emily pulled her in close, resting her cheek on the top of Bethany's head. "I know. But you did really well, and you were able to get out of the way. You're still here, you're alright."

"I-I didn't want Jocelyn t-to get hurt e-either. Sh-she was s-so b-brave."

"It's okay. She's fine, you're fine. No one but Weyman got hurt. Alright? Now what's this really about?"

Bethany looked up, but didn't look her in the eyes. "C-can I tell you later?"

She gave her daughter a silent nod, and continued to rub her back soothingly. "Whenever you're ready."


	8. Chapter 8

_Sorry for the wait... again. School is like a kick in the pants on top of the fact that I've had a headache for almost a weel straight. Agh. I kinda hate this one; I mean it was necessary, but I'm not really all that happy with it. I realized today that there are probably tons of holes in the story line and I probably screwed up names or dates, so yell at me if you wish._

_Big thanks to Sammie, Davi, and Jessica (?), my faithful, but anonymous reviewers. Your reviews always make me smile. :)_

_Only a chapter or two left before the end of the story. Thanks everybody! -Taylor. xx_

_Disclaimer: **Let's think for a second; if I owned CM, why would I be putting this on here?**_

* * *

The jet was supposed to have taken off an hour ago, but none of the team had really cared anymore. They'd gone out for dinner at a local Chinese restaurant half of the police force had recommended. Naturally, Bethany had gone along. While the team laughed at something or another, even Hotch for once, she sat there quietly, pushing the noodles around her plate with her chopsticks. When JJ had quietly asked her why, she gave the timeless, but slightly overused, excuse of 'I'm not very hungry' and the adult had left her alone, eyebrows raised suspiciously, but backed off, all the same.

By the time dessert rolled around, she politely declined and watched as the majority of the team ordered something for themselves. Rossi had said something about his cholesterol and declined, as well, but he was the only one. Emily had offered a piece of her Banana Fritters and Morgan had thrown her a fortune cookie, but she didn't eat either. She only opened the cookie when Morgan had practically forced her to. _The time to tell the truth is now _it read. She sighed and shoved it in her back pocket, refusing to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing what it said.

When they got back to the hotel, it was almost completely dark. Everyone separated to their respective rooms except JJ, who excused herself to call Will and Henry back in DC. Bethany had changed into a pair of silver athletic shorts and a black, long sleeved shirt before curling up next to the arm of the couch, eyes resting on the wall across the room from her. Emily had only brushed her teeth before she sat next to her. "Are you ready to talk yet?" she asked, softly.

Still slightly numb from the day's events, she could only blink. She felt a tentative hand touch her shoulder, which made her tear her eyes away from the baize paint that had practically hypnotized her. She found herself looking straight into Emily Prentiss' extremely dark, but still soft and caring, eyes. They offered comforting warmth to her. Her chin quivered as she shook her head. Before the tears could fully develop and proceed to cascade down her cheeks, she buried her face into Emily's shoulder. If she'd been offended by the answer she'd gotten, she sure didn't show it as her hand rubbed small circles in her adoptive daughter's back.

Though there were many shaky breaths and a few sniffles, Bethany didn't shed a single tear. Her eyes were shut and she could hear everything Emily was quietly saying to her. It wasn't anything exciting or earth-shattering, but it calmed her down all the same. Eventually, she pulled her head out and rubbed her face. "'m sorry," she muttered.

"Don't be sorry," was the reply. "I know it's tough. Take all the time you need." Bethany hadn't heard _that_ tone of voice since Emily had found her in the alley. It was the tone that let her know that she wasn't alone. The tone that told her she'd be okay.

After taking a few minutes to collect herself completely, she took a deep breath. "I went to go see my mom's grave before I came here. I mean, I never really got to see it, but I still went there. I haven't been since before my aunt and cousin died. I wanted to… to go, but I didn't…" She couldn't finish her sentence, shifting her gaze away from Emily to the floor a few feet in front of them.

"You didn't, what, Beth? It's okay. You can tell me."

She shook her head, adamantly. "No… I can't."

"Why not?" She could tell Emily's eyebrows were knitted together.

Bethany took a deep breath, and then bit down on her lower lip. She debated whether or not to answer any of it. It was risky either way; having a profiler for a mother, even if she wasn't biologically her mother, was dangerous when you had secrets. _You have to come clean eventually, _her voice of reason reminded her, _now's as good a time as ever._ "I didn't ask because I didn't want you to get hurt."

When she finally got the nerve to look at Emily, she saw the incredulity in her eyes. She looked away, quickly, mistaking her slightly open mouth as hurt. She cursed under her breath, making a move to stand up. Emily grasped her upper arm before she got the chance. "Bethany…" she started, as if at a loss for words. "How could I be upset at you for wanting to visit your mom?" Bethany couldn't look at her directly. The profiler gently put a hand on the younger's cheek, guiding it in the right direction. "I'm not angry, I promise. What kind of person would I be if I didn't let you go?"

Bethany shook her head, gaze drifting to the couch again. "I just… I didn't want… I don't know."

"It's alright. You don't have to have all the answers right now. Hell, you can't possibly have all the answers, I'm just glad you told me." Her face went from soft and sympathetic to serious and stern in a split second. "I would've liked a little heads up that you were going to freaking Pennsylvania, though. You nearly gave Garcia a heart attack, not to mention Will."

"I know," she began, nodding, "and I really am sorry about that, but I'm not sorry that I went."

"Are you sorry about whatever it was that you did to get that?" Emily asked, gesturing to the still slightly purple and yellow bruise around her left eye.

Bethany sighed. The pain had long since gone from the mark, but apparently the mark itself had not. She'd almost forgotten about it, to tell the truth. "No," she started slowly after a long pause. "I don't think I'm sorry at all about that."

"You want to tell me about it?"

"Not now."

It was Emily's turn to sigh. "I'll tell you what;" she began, "the team leaves on the jet tomorrow morning, but you and I can take a road trip home. We can stop at your mother's grave and you can tell me then. Clear?"

"Crystal."

The rest of the team left in one of the Suburban's the following morning, even before the sun was up. They always liked to get up and out before the air traffic really got going. Bethany had slept a tiny bit better than the night before, as she had just passed out on the couch instead of the floor. However, she didn't think she got quite enough, for her senses didn't fully function until nearly twenty minutes after Emily woke her up.

Nevertheless, she pulled on a pair of boot cut jeans, a pale yellow tee shirt, and a Skillet "monster" sip-up hoodie. She dug through her bag to find the warmest pair of socks, as even with the heat on, the room was fairly cool. She had never handled cold very well. Once her shoes were on, and her teeth were brushed, and her hair had been rid of knots, she saw that Emily was ready, and probably had been for quite a while. Her dark hair was slightly curled from not straightening it for a day or two, but her clothes were more casual. She, too, wore a pair of jeans, a three-quarter length navy V-neck, and a dark leather jacket that had of yet to be zippered.

Wordlessly, they took their bags and went to go check out, neither very eager for the nine hour car ride to Pennsylvania. They threw their bags in the back, easily having space for a few more. It wasn't long after that they set off towards York, Pennsylvania. Unsurprisingly, Bethany won the small quarrel over the radio, and they settled on putting her iPod on shuffle. After four hours of driving, they stopped at a 'rest area', which looked significantly nicer – and less sketchy – than the ones in Jersey. They had a bite to eat from the Panera Bread stall before hitting the road again.

They arrived in York around five thirty, but both were exhausted. After stopping at a small Mom and Pop diner for dinner, they checked into another hotel room and slept more or less comfortably until the sun shone through the curtains the next morning. They were quiet, hardly speaking at all, as it had been for most of the trip, aside from the cliché small talk.

Morning routines were performed and breakfast consisted of leftover pancakes from dinner the previous night, but neither seemed to mind. Bethany just wanted to go, practically chomping at the bit as they stepped out into the cool October air. She was dressed much the same as she had yesterday, but she hardly noticed as she gave directions to a cemetery about ten minutes from where they were staying. It looked nice, well-kept and cared for. A black iron gate surrounded the property, aside from a large gate at the entrance. She steered Emily through the maze of small thankfully paved, paths to find the stone that read the name of her mother; the stone that was forever etched into her brain.

She stared out the window at it for a little while, not even the engine cutting out stirred her. "Bethany?" she barely heard Emily say. She tore her gaze from the window for a second. "You ready?"

She gave a slight, silent nod before swinging the door happen. Cool air whipped at her face; the sun was hidden by benign, but thick, clouds. She went to take a step, but only managed to put her foot on the ground instead of move her whole body. For a minute, she could only stand there, eyes locked on the stone that jutted out of the ground a few yards in front of her. It was clean, aside from a small bouquet of dead daisies. She wished she knew who'd put them there.

At long last, she worked up the courage to weave her way through the first two rows of graves to reach one that really mattered to her. The only other one that had any meaning to her was beside it, but she had far less history with it. Her eyes never lifted from the name elegantly carved in the stone, numbers and more letters in smaller print below it. She took a deep breath and sat down Indian-style in front of it. Bethany reached forward and traced the letters with her fingers, much to her ribs' protest. _H-E-L-E-N M-A-R-I-E G-A-R-T-E-R._

From some where behind her, she knew that Emily was watching. She could sense it. Shamelessly, the teenager buried her face in her hands and shut her eyes. She heard the rustling of dying grass beside her, and then a gentle hand rest on her upper back. She took a deep, hitched breath before removing her hands. She didn't look at her adoptive mother, just stared at the stone. Her nose and ears were probably red from the cold, just as she knew her fingers and toes were, but suddenly none of that mattered at all.

"Why don't you tell me about her?"

Bethany stayed quiet for a minute, mulling over those words. She tried to remember the best things about her mom; birthdays, Christmases, summers, but all she could think of was standing in front of her casket, her cousin clutching her hand and her aunt a few steps behind. She had tried to stay strong that day, but standing there, not even able to see the face of the woman who had been her best friend for her entire life through the wooden box was just too much. She could remember the awful feeling of being stared at by at least a hundred eyes as she read a little something about her mom with a shaky voice. Somehow that day had managed to override every other one that involved Helen.

But, as she sat there for another minute, she remembered the photograph that she'd shown Emily months before. Her mom had been grinning as if there was no tomorrow, and Bethany hadn't looked too much different. That was the day that she had scored her first goal in a soccer game in sixth grade. Helen had been over the moon, screaming from the sidelines like a maniac whereas Bethany had been in shock. They'd gone out with the team that night, where the photo had been taken.

"She…" she tried to start, but hesitated. "She was really funny. She could make anyone smile, probably even Hotch. She just… there was just something about the way she said things that made you want to bust a gut. When I got Leukemia, she was the one who found all of the positives. She would convince the nurses to bring me extra ice cream when I felt really bad. And one time," a ghost of a smile crossed over her features, "she helped my aunt smuggle Menace in when they got him."

"She sounds great."

"She was. I was in the hospital around Christmas when I was nine for another round of chemo. I really wanted to have a normal Christmas, you know, with a tree and presents and everything. The doctor told us that I wouldn't get to go home until after the New Year." She sighed. "I remember being so disappointed, but when I woke up from a nap a few days later, she'd put up a fake tree and decorations in my room. The little girl who I shared the room with looked ecstatic. Her parents came later and I thought they were going to have heart attacks. It was the best thing in the world to know that _my_ mom made people that happy."

Emily rubbed her upper back a little before retracting her hand. She lay on her back and looked up at the clouds, absently. "That's wonderful."

Bethany nodded. "Yeah," she sighed. She copied Emily's position, hands shoved into the pockets of her sweatshirt. "That was my mom. For my sixth birthday, she threw me a surprise party. It wasn't one of those small ones were there's only like five people; there were probably at least twenty of _my_ friends plus a bunch of family friends, and my cousin. It was huge. From then on, my aunt and I would try to out do it for her birthday, but it never worked. She would always find out what we were trying to do and somehow stop it.

"For her birthday last year, we were positive that this one was fool proof. We had everything all ready and had kept it quiet, and even Parker was in on it. But… The night before the party, she was driving home from work really late… and… a police officer showed up at the door around midnight asking a bunch of questions. I didn't know what was going on. He asked me about my dad, and then my mom. I finally just yelled at him to tell me what was going on, and that's when he told me what happened.

"He said there'd been an accident," she took a deep breath, "and that she had been blindsided. The person who hit her was drunk and he didn't have his lights on. She, uh, she died on impact. He said that she couldn't've felt any pain and that she didn't suffer, but, I mea, how could you not? how can you just be alive one minute and dead the next? And they wouldn't let me see her. They took me to the hospital and they wouldn't let me see her at all. Aunt Bailey got to see her, but they wouldn't let _me_. Even at the funeral… it was a closed coffin.

"I remember being so upset with the world that I punched a hole in my bedroom wall. I was so pissed off I didn't talk to anybody until the funeral. I got so sick of people saying that they were sorry and that I looked just like her or that she'd be so proud of me. I had to get up and speak to everybody about her, kinda like this. I wanted to stay mad, but… I started telling about her crappy cooking and her amazing cookies and her smile and… I couldn't do it. I wanted so much to hear her laugh or even snap at me for trashing her cooking. It hurt so much and I just wanted to make it go away.

"And then, when Aunt Bailey and Parker were – were killed, I just hated the world. Before then, I didn't think that things could get worse. I guess I was wrong. That's why I was such a jerk. I just hated that everything was happening to me and that I never got to say goodbye to any of them. I hated that other people could be happy and I was the only one who was upset about this. And then you guys showed up. I figured that by offering my help, I might feel better. Undercover was even better. I though that being that close to a killer, that, _may_be I wouldn't make it back and that I'd be with my mom and Aunt Bailey and Parker. I just wanted to feel right again."

She didn't look over, but knew that Emily was looking at her. She didn't seem surprised, but if she was, she didn't make a sound. Instead, she waited for Bethany to continue. "I… After I spent more time with you and the team I felt a little better; like I actually mattered and that someone who was actually live cared about me. I didn't want to be one of those kids who lived in a home for years on end because no one wanted them, so I did everything I could to stay with one of you."

"And do you? Feel better, I mean."

Bethany bit her lower lip. "I don't know," she replied, barely above a whisper. "Maybe a little."

"But you really miss her, don't you?"  
"Yeah," her voice cracked, "I really do."

After half an hour of Bethany telling little stories of her mom, they both decided it was high time to get warm again. Fingers and toes, not to mention noses and ears, were too close to frostbite than either liked. They headed out to a local burger joint near the cemetery, where they curled their hands around tea cups filled with steaming hot chocolate, and Bethany sat on her feet to warm her toes. Their waiter seemed to take pity on them, and their order came almost as quickly as a fast food place. The teenager wolfed down her burger in mere minutes, polishing off her fries not long after.

"So when are you gonna tell me why someone socked you in the face?" Emily asked, casually, popping a fry in her mouth.

The girl's eyes met hers for a second before returning to the food in front of her. "Uh." She looked around for a second. "A few years ago, I saw a drug deal happen in the city. It wasn't major stuff, but I was young and knew enough to realize what it was and how bad it was. I told a cop a few blocks down and they all got arrested. When I came back before I went to Indiana, the dealer's little sister saw me and decided to attack me. When I told the cop, I didn't know how serious a deal it was to rat a deal out, being naïve and all. It wasn't my smartest move. So, she punched me in the face and I tried to retaliate."

"Tried?"

"Yeah, uh, that sister is like a black belt in Judo or something. It didn't work out so well." She gave a nervous chuckle and scratched the back of her head. "I ran away, screaming like a little girl."

Emily looked at her incredulously. "You tried to take on a drug dealer's _family_? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Bethany put on her best confused face, "I'm sorry..? She didn't tell me who she was until after I was black and blue."

"For a smart kid you can be really stupid sometimes, you know?"


End file.
